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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760196">All I Really Want is You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yomama_umbridge/pseuds/yomama_umbridge'>yomama_umbridge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Also her name is Peter, Author is not really using MCU canon either as far as the Avengers go, Because I didn't like any other names, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Brief Mentions of Character Death, Brief mentions of Gwen's death, But that doesn't matter until much later so forget I said anything, Character Death but it's Wade so, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Eventual Smut, Explicit comes in later w/smut, F/M, Halloween chapter will be in Chapter Fourteen, Harry's not dead in this, Hurt Peter Parker, It'll be a bit before the smut but it'll be there I promise, It's Gwen, Light Dom/sub, More tags to come as the story is updated, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter Parker has bad anxiety, Peter Parker is Tired, Peter can be big dumb sometimes, Peter is 22 and Wade is 31, Plus-sized!Peter Parker, Size Kink, So Bucky is in this even though it's 2012, So Wade's birthday is a different year, So there won't be any specific MCU events, Strength Kink, There will be a Halloween chapter at some point, Thigh-grinding, This takes place in 2012, Virgin Peter Parker, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, baby sub peter soft dom wade, fem!Peter Parker - Freeform, i think, kinda slow-burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yomama_umbridge/pseuds/yomama_umbridge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter’s eyes were held open by only sheer stubbornness and will as she skated down the street. She swerved between two cars before turning at the red light, blinking back the tears that came with her jaw-cracking yarn. She just wanted her coffee, she needed the caffeine refill before she could even attempt studying for the afternoon. Thankfully, Starbucks was always there to take her money and give her that brief caffeine boost that she so desperately craved. </p><p>Peter Parker is an exhausted and overworked student in her senior year of college. Sleep-deprived and running on coffee and fumes, Peter really just wants to get through this semester. On a rare coffee run to ensure that she doesn't fall asleep on patrol or in her textbooks again, she quite literally stumbles upon Deadpool. Not only is Deadpool one of those people that Tony's always harping on her to stay away from, but he's also tall and intimidating and quite honestly, attractive as fuck. Not to mention that she can't get him out of her head. One chance meeting leads to another, and Peter lands herself in the middle of a tornado filled with romance, mystery, and danger.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Clint Barton, Peter Parker &amp; Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy (past relationship), Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson (past relationship), Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Wade Wilson &amp; Weasel, Wade Wilson/Vanessa Carlysle (past relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>175</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Day Of My Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter and Deadpool meet for the first time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone! This story stems from an idea that I had a few weeks ago about a plus-sized/fem!Peter Parker. I really just wanted to see how that would look, especially if it was done with Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man in mind! So here we are! The inspiration for my Peter is Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man, and as I haven't really read any of the comics, all of my knowledge comes from all of the Spider-Man movies and other fanfics. The same goes for Deadpool, so I'm sorry if anyone seems out of character.<br/>There is a playlist for this story. The title of this story comes from the song She Looks So Perfect by Five Seconds of Summer. You can find the playlist on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=dpwJKxs7TBWl7ItOAQ2Hvg. You can also find it on Youtube here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p. The Spotify playlist won't play in order unless you have Spotify Premium, but the Youtube playlist should play in order. You don't have to listen to the songs in order, but every chapter (and the story itself) does have a song that it correlates too!<br/>The song for this chapter is First Day Of My Life by Bright Eyes. And without further ado, here is Chapter One of All I Really Want is You.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter's eyes were held open by only sheer stubbornness and will as she skated down the street. She swerved between two cars before turning at the red light, blinking back the tears that came with her jaw-cracking yawn. She just wanted her coffee, she needed the caffeine refill before she could have even attempted studying for the afternoon. Thankfully, Starbucks was always there to take her money and give her that brief caffeine boost that she so desperately craved. </p><p>It had been a long week for Peter. Two papers due, an exam, and three articles expected by the end of the week, <em>and </em>it was only Monday. Trying to balance a full-time school schedule and a mostly full-time job schedule resulted in a very exhausted and fried Peter Parker. Not to mention the countless hours that she put in every week to patrol the city as Spider-Woman. It was just after midterms, and she had expected her workload to slow for a bit as it had during the last three years of college. Her teachers this semester had all managed to surprise her though by not slowing down at all. If only her spidey-sense could sense when her teachers were going to be assholes. </p><p>In summary, it was only the middle of October, and Peter felt like it was already final's season. </p><p>Peter dangled her left foot off the edge of the skateboard, letting it skid across the ground to slow her. Her skateboard came to a stop in front of the familiar Starbucks entrance, and she swiped her board from the ground, reaching around her to attach it to her backpack. Peter pushed her hair to the back of her neck, cursing under her breath at her forgetfulness for the umpteenth time today. On school days, Peter always made sure to bring some sort of hair tie or headband with her because riding a skateboard with loose hair was a <em>bitch</em>. But that morning, one of her last remaining hair ties - fabric coming off the elastic and shape stretched all to hell - snapped as she was tying her hair up, and Peter being Peter, didn't have an extra one in her bag. She spent the whole day with pencils shoved up in her thick mess of hair, trying to keep it off the back of her neck. But she had to take them out to skate, and her hair had irritated her all day. </p><p>Peter sighed and pushed the door open, eyes blinking furiously against the bright lights of the coffee shop as the different smells of coffee hit her nose. Her senses had been working overtime recently due to her exhaustion (and she hadn't really been taking care of herself that well, but that's beside the point), and she was so sensitive to everything. She yawned as she moved to the line extending from the front counter, and she rubbed her eyes, thinking about whether or not she had enough money in her pocket to get a grande cappuccino instead of her usual tall. Peter moved forward as the person at the counter left. A voice interrupted her mind's sluggish stewing, and the deep timber of the person's tone sent pleasant tingles down her spine. </p><p>"Yes, a venti java chip frappuccino, please. God, I'm gonna fucking kill Weasel, he owes me big time, doesn't deserve a friend half as good as me," the person in front of Peter was muttering to themselves as they handed several bills over to the barista. They were outfitted head to toe in a red leather suit, complete with black detailing. The top hugged their biceps, and the close-fitted fabric continued down the person's chest, legs, and butt. Several weapons were holstered across the person's body, including at least four guns and two long swords that Peter thought were katanas. The outfit was complete with a thick utility belt and a mask that covered the person's entire head. Peter didn't blink twice as she looked over the person's attire. She had seen weirder things in New York, including alien attacks and someone who turned into the jolly green giant when he was angry. Plus, her spidey-sense hadn't gone off when she entered the Starbucks, so the person must not have been as dangerous as they looked. Still, it was a little strange that her spidey-sense hadn't even given her a small warning about the multitude of weapons the person was carrying. </p><p>"Okay, and what was the name again?" The barista asked, their voice slow and bored as they looked over the person standing at the counter. Peter resisted the urge to pull out her phone because as soon as she did, it would be her turn to order. She closed her eyes in frustration and exhaustion; she just wanted her fucking coffee. </p><p>"Let's do Beyonce this time!" The person chirped, placing their hands on their hips. Peter blinked, her eyelids heavy as she looked over the stranger again. There was something familiar about them, maybe they were cosplaying as one of those one-off heroes that occasionally made their way into the city? If Peter wasn't intimately familiar with the design of her suit, she would say it was a horrible cosplay of her own superhero persona. </p><p>"Alright your order should be ready in a minute," the barista said, gesturing for the person to move over. They thanked the barista and started to turn around. Unfortunately, at the exact moment that the stranger decided to turn, Peter started to move forward to get closer to the counter. Peter's spidey-sense didn't give her the slightest warning before they collided. What the fuck? </p><p>The stranger bumped into Peter, and if she had been anybody else, she would have been knocked flat on the ground. It felt like hitting a brick wall; the person was built like a fucking tank. But because Peter was granted absolute ultimate balancing skills with her spidery powers, she was able to just stumble backward instead of landing flat on her ass. Peter looked up at the stranger's masked face, and she realized why they looked so familiar. Standing in front of her was the one and only Merc with a Mouth: Deadpool. </p><p>The large eye lenses on Deadpool's mask widened impossibly as he looked at Peter, and she felt her cheeks redden. She could see his mouth through the mask, a comical "o" shaped imprint in the leather. Her eyes were drawn to his arms, biceps almost bigger than her head and hands that would surely swallow her own, before she managed to look back up at where she thought his eyes were. </p><p>"Well aren't you just a sight for sore eyes," Deadpool wheezed, his free hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Peter's cheeks flushed even harder, and she glared at the masked man in response. </p><p>"You're the cutest bunny I ever did see. If I give you carrots, can I keep you?" He continued, his voice now much deeper and confident. Somehow, his mouth widened into a leer. Seriously, how the fuck was he doing that? Peter's own mask didn't move like that. Shit, even the superheroes with <em>magic </em>didn't have masks like that. </p><p>"And thank you Weasel for your horrible sugar addiction. I could just eat you up. God, you should be illegal." Peter's confusion just grew even more - who the fuck was Weasel? - and she raised her eyebrows at him. </p><p>"Who are you, the big bad wolf?" She snarked. She mentally congratulated herself that her voice hadn't betrayed the fluttering in her gut. </p><p>"Why don't you come a little closer and find out?"</p><p>"How about you move out the way?" The barista at the counter was glaring at Deadpool now. The masked man in question held his hands up in a pleading gesture before backing away from the counter and Peter. </p><p>"Time to thank Weasel and then kill him in that order." Before Peter could even open her mouth to shoot back a retort, Beyonce's name was being called across the store. She watched as Deadpool grabbed his drink and whirled around to face Peter. The bastard had the audacity to wink at her with his mask. "I gotta bounce, Sweetheart, but let's do this again sometime, m'kay?" By the time she processed what he said, Deadpool was already halfway out the door. </p><p>Peter watched him leave and walk down the street before hanging a left. She wanted to chase after him. Why the hell did she want to do that? She wouldn't even begin to know what to do with him <em>if </em>she caught up to him. She had just met one of the city's most dangerous people, at least according to Tony, and he had openly flirted with her in front of an entire Starbucks. <em>And </em>he hadn't triggered her spidey-sense. What the hell was going on? </p><p>"Are you gonna order something or not?" Peter's internal monologue was interrupted by the barista. She blushed again and hurried forward, her order spilling out of her mouth along with an apology. The next few minutes passed in a blur as Peter waited for her cappuccino. Thankfully, her autopilot brain, which had indeed calculated the amount of money in her pocket, decided to go with the grande instead of the tall. The barista called out her name, and she grabbed her coffee and left, reaching behind her for her board in an automatic gesture. She skated down the street without a clue of where she was going. By the time her brain stopped thinking about those thick thighs and biceps and caught up with her again, she was at the campus library. As she stepped into the building, she caught sight of someone in a bright red hoodie, and she immediately thought of a certain masked antihero again. Realizing that she wasn't going to get <em>any </em>work done, Peter sighed and walked right back out the door, heading in the direction of her apartment. At least she could start patrol early. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There you have it, folks! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of All I Really Want is You. If you want to talk about this chapter with me, you can head over to my tumblr: it's @yomama-umbridge. You can also check out my ko-fi at https://ko-fi.com/mac0413. I'll be posting there about my outlines, and you can send me a coffee if you feel so inclined! If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment of your favorite lines or just to tell me that you enjoyed it! Comments are amazing and always make my day! I'll try to have the second chapter uploaded in the next two days. I'm trying to align the chapters so that the Halloween chapter falls on Halloween. I have not had much luck with planned timelines like that in the past, so I'll just see how it goes!<br/>Until the next one!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bloom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter desperately tries not to think about Deadpool, and she fails spectacularly.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, Friends! I am back with Chapter Two of All I Really Want is You. Chapter Two is named Bloom for the song Bloom by The Paper Kites. </p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this story on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=zBoKE12dRxywUDeLVLaT4A<br/>or on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p. Reminder, Spotify will not play the playlist in order unless you have Spotify Premium. YouTube should play the playlist in order. Of course, you don't have to listen to it in order, but each song and the story itself correlates to a song. I will also be updating the playlists with the corresponding songs as I write chapters and they are uploaded. Currently, the playlists are updated for Chapters One-Four. </p><p>With that being said, I'll leave you to Chapter Two!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter managed to get approximately 0% of work done after meeting Deadpool. Her Monday was practically wasted, though there was a little thought in the corner of her mind - she had tried to place imaginary boxes on top of it, but it hadn't worked - that maybe meeting Deadpool was a good thing.</p><p>Studying at the library wasn't an option because she knew she would be distracted the entire time. Instead, she headed home and tried to patrol early. The first few hours of her patrol were quiet: only one robbery and two cats stuck on their fire escapes. Even though she spent two hours swinging around trying to focus on literally anything but the masked mercenary, she couldn't think about anything else. Even if she wasn't picturing him in her head, she was constantly wondering why he hadn't set off her spidey-sense like everything else did. Her thoughts were full of images of thick biceps encased in dark red leather. At one point, she even imagined his deep voice whispering in her ear, and the hair on her arms stood straight up as shivers tingled down her spine. Least to say, Peter was very, very distracted, and after another two hours of swinging around her city with no crimes to report, she headed home.</p><p>After climbing up the fire escape and through her small bedroom window, Peter stumbled into her apartment, barely stopping herself from tripping over the dirty laundry strewn across the floor. She ripped off her mask, throwing it on her bed as she closed her window. The rest of her suit, as well as her burner phone, followed her mask, and she grabbed a towel from her closet before heading into her tiny bathroom. </p><p>Peter leaned against the wall as she waited for the shower to heat up. Her apartment was small and falling apart, and she was lucky to have hot water at all. Last year in November, the water heater had broken in the building, and she had to take blistering cold showers for a week. She ended up crashing at MJ's apartment for a few days just so she could take showers that wouldn't turn her lips blue. Thinking of MJ's apartment reminded Peter that she needed to text her back. MJ and Peter's friendship was rocky these days. They had tried to transition from just friends to being in a relationship a few years ago, and neither of them had taken well to the change. They had agreed that they were meant to be just friends, but their friendship was shaky at best, and then MJ moved out to California to pursue her dream of acting. With the thousands of miles between them and their inconsistency in communication, Peter was having difficulty finding her old place in their friendship. And then Gwen came along, and well, that had just complicated everything else entirely.</p><p>Peter rubbed her eyes as she finally stepped into the shower. She didn't want to think about her fragile friendship with MJ, and if she thought about Gwen or Gwen's father for too long, then the waves of depression and guilt just crashed down on her and then the tears would start and then she would be inconsolable for another week, so it was best that she not think about them at all. So naturally, her mind directed her back to that afternoon and the mercenary she had been thinking about all day.</p><p>As Peter scrubbed her hands through her wet hair, trying to get all of the shampoo out of her thick curls, she started to imagine Deadpool underneath the lukewarm spray of the shower. What did he look like underneath his suit: did he have curly hair like hers, or was it straight? Was it blonde or black or red or brown or some other color? Or did he not have any hair at all? What color were his eyes, and did he have thick eyelashes that would make Peter turn into a straight-up mess? The only thing that Peter had any reference for was his sharp jawline, and she would willingly cut herself on it anytime.</p><p>Peter groaned and tried to think about the paper she had coming up in her biochem class instead of Deadpool. She had only met this man one time, and she was already thinking about him naked. Nope, nope, she was definitely not imagining him naked and wet, muscles rippling beneath the water. Nope, not at all.</p><p>Quickly, before her thoughts could get any more NSFW, she shut the water off and climbed out of the tub, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself. Those large bath towels were the one thing she had indulged in when she moved out of Aunt May's apartment. She still slept on her childhood bed, and her ancient, broken sofa came from a neighbor who was throwing it in the dumpster. But she had always wanted huge towels that would be able to wrap around all of her, and they had the bonus of being plus and very, very soft. She also secretly loved how they swaddled her like a child.</p><p>Peter dried herself off and grabbed a pair of pajamas from her closet at random. They were all just nerd shirts and old shorts, so it didn't matter which pair it was anyway. The shirts had come from this one specific shop online that sold specifically women's t-shirts but in a huge range of sizes. It had taken her forever to find somewhere that she could find fun, nerdy shirts in a 2XL or bigger, and she had found this specific shop after a few hours of Googling. While she was an XL on a good day, sometimes Peter wanted looser-fitting shirts (which she preferred for sleeping anyway). </p><p>Pajamas on, Peter stumbled toward her bed. She should have made herself some dinner, but there was only one more cup of ramen left in the cabinet, and payday wasn't for two more days. Besides, she wasn't really that hungry, despite what her brain was telling her. Food would have to wait.</p><p>Flopping down on her bed with her limbs all eschew, Peter blindly pulled at her blankets until they covered her up to her chin. She gained a few inches from the spider bite, rounding her out to about 5'4, but she was still safe to stretch out beneath the covers without her toes sticking out. Her legs rubbed against the sleek fabric of her suit, and she kicked at it and her burner phone until they both fell onto the floor. She grabbed at her personal phone on her nightstand, fiddling around with it before plugging it in. It wasn't that late yet, but she closed her eyes anyway. If she was being honest with herself, she could use a few more hours of sleep.</p><p>Sleep didn't come easy to Peter. Her mind still wouldn't shut up; it seemed content to relive her conversation with Deadpool over and over again. At one point, after she had been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, she started wondering what Deadpool was doing at that exact moment. Was he in bed, trying to sleep, or was he out in the city somewhere, walking through a dark alley? If she met him while on patrol, would he be able to sneak up on her, or would her spidey-sense actually warn her? Despite her restless thoughts, Peter was able to fall asleep somewhere around 3 AM, but she woke up several more times before her alarm went off at 7:30. </p><p>The next two days passed in almost the exact same way. </p><p>Peter was distracted the entire day because she kept thinking of Deadpool, getting no productive schoolwork done at the library or at her small desk in her apartment. Then, she left and tried to patrol early, but she ended up going home before 10:00 PM. She tried to figure out where Deadpool's territory might be if he had one, but she didn't have a clue of where to even begin to look. The first day after she met Deadpool (or <em>AMD</em>, as she had taken to counting days post-meeting Deadpool), she was so distracted while on patrol that she almost forgot to throw another web, heart racing, as she narrowly avoided crashing into a concrete building. 

</p><p>On the second day <em>AMD</em>, Peter went into The Bugle for work. Triple J yelled at her for a good hour because she had been slacking off recently (his lecturing was unfortunately justified this time though. It had been a good week since the last time she had submitted Spider-Woman pictures), and when she sat down at her desk to write, she only managed to type out two badly written paragraphs in the five hours she was at the office.</p><p>So one could say that Peter was very, very frustrated.</p><p>Being a millennial, there was one place that Peter knew that she could always turn to if she was in trouble. Whether it was questions about weird sex things, answers to an obscure math problem, or figuring the symbolism in <em>Twelfth Night</em>, there was one place that would always be there to give you what you needed.</p><p>The internet.</p><p>So after spending five hours doing absolutely <em>nothing</em> at the Bugle, Peter headed to the small bodega down the street from her apartment and bought the bare necessities for the next week, lots of Cup-O-Noodles and toilet paper, and then sat herself down at her tiny desk. Deadpool's website where he sold weapons was easy enough to find, but Peter was not about to call the phone number listed on that page. She also found a Twitter account that looked like it might be run by Deadpool, but it was mostly just full of dogs in various places around New York City, so that wasn't much help either.</p><p>Peter banged her head against her desk before shoving her face in her sweatshirt covered arms and screaming. Yeah, frustrated was an understatement. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I genuinely hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you have a favorite moment or line, drop me a comment and let me know! Also, just let me know what you think is going to happen or anything else that you would like to talk about! I promise to answer!</p><p>If you want to find me on Tumblr and come scream with me about literally anything, I am @yomama-umbridge. I also have a Ko-Fi, and the link for that is here: https://ko-fi.com/mac0413. I will be talking about this story over there, and I have plans to start uploading notes about my outlines or content or just snippets from future stories. My commissions are also open, so if you would like one, consider buying me a coffee, and we can get to work on that! </p><p>I hope you all have a lovely day, and I will be seeing you soon with Chapter Three!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sunflower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When the internet fails to give Peter the information that she wants, Peter reaches out to an Avenger.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! Chapter Three is here, and it is Sunflower! Today's title is brought to you by the song Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee. </p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this fic on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=StoOEMllSdKffM7M6xdrVg<br/>and on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p. The playlist will not play in order on Spotify unless you have Spotify Premium, but it should play in order on YouTube. The playlist is updated through Chapter Six, so those of you that go listen to it will get a teaser for the chapters to come!</p><p>I'm sorry that there's no direct Deadpool action in this chapter, but there will be an interaction in chapter four! </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The internet had finally failed her. And what did Peter do in response? She definitely didn't go back to that same Starbucks two days in a row, hoping to spot Deadpool again. Nope, she definitely didn't do that. </p><p>In a last-ditch effort to find information on Deadpool on her own, Peter definitely went back to that same Starbucks two days in a row. He wasn't there, though, and she wasted two hours each day just sitting in one of those uncomfortable, wooden chairs in the back of the store. She nursed her cappuccino and watched obviously tired college students pretend to work while doing nothing but listen to music and stare at a blank document on their computers. It was a little creepy at this point, the amount of time that Peter thought about and looked for Deadpool. She couldn't figure out what it was about him, but her brain was intent on driving her insane by not letting her think about anything but him. </p><p>Naturally, there was only one more place to turn to: the Avengers. But she couldn't just ask any of them. She didn't have the best relationship with Tony as he treated her like a child and often like a nuisance, and Captain America - or Steve as he had tried to get her to call him - intimidated the shit out of her. Her gigantic crush on him didn't help, so he wasn't a reasonable choice either. Peter was closest to Natasha, them being fellow spiders and all, and they often met up to spar together at the Avengers Tower. Clint was also a good choice as Peter worked very well with him; they often bonded (okay, it was usually during the midst of battle, but <em>still</em>) over their shared sense of humor and snarky comebacks. So, Natasha or Clint, it was. </p><p>Tomorrow was Saturday, one of the only days that Peter had off from both work and school, and she was begrudgingly going to use some of her rare, free hours to try and talk to one or both of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents. </p><p>Peter perched herself on top of a high-rise apartment building, gazing at her glittering city down below her. If her mask were off, her hair would be whipping around her face like crazy from the heavy wind. Her mask acted kind of like a wig cap, keeping all of her hair plastered to the back of her head. When she was 16 and first designed her costume, she had short, curly hair that stuck up in every which way and would actually behave under her mask. But she didn't anticipate that she would eventually grow out her hair again, and now, six years later, her hair stopped a few inches below her shoulders and never wanted to stay put. Maybe it was time for another haircut; she <em>did </em>really enjoy having short hair. </p><p>Peter's spidey-sense went off seconds before she heard the sounds of a scuffle on the ground. </p><p>"Someone, please help!" A shrill voice cried out below Peter. She scanned the street and found the source of the shouting: a young woman pulling on her bag while someone in a black ski mask yanked it in the other direction. Peter sighed before leaping off the building and shooting a web to catch herself. She wished they would be just a <em>little </em>more original these days. </p><p>"Could you be any more cliche?" Peter asked sarcastically as she landed in front of the robber. They looked surprised to see her standing there and dropped the purse. Her spidey-sense alerted her of the gun before the robber started to pull it out of their waistband. Peter rolled her eyes. </p><p>"A gun, really? Even I can do better than that," Peter snarked as she shot a web at the streetlamp in front of her. She took off running before jumping up and swinging towards the robber. She kicked her legs out at the last second, catching the robber straight in the chest with the soles of her feet. They flew back a few feet, and Peter quickly dropped from her web, landing in a crouch before webbing the robber to the wall where they had landed. She dusted her hands off as she looked over the robber's bonds, making sure that they were thoroughly attached to the wall. Her spidey-sense had properly gone off twice tonight; it seemed that it wasn't broken after all. </p><p>Robber taken care of, Peter turned her attention to the woman clutching her purse to her chest. She was visibly shaken, and she let out a huge gust of air as she noticed the robber's state. </p><p>"Are you alright, Ma'am?" Peter asked kindly, not stepping forward so she could let the woman have her space </p><p>"Y-yes, thank you. I...I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along," she said, sniffling several times. Peter smiled faintly beneath her mask, but she knew that the other woman couldn't see it. If only she had a mask like Deadpool's. And fuck, there she goes again, thinking about Deadpool. </p><p>"I'm calling this in to the police, Ma'am. Would you like to make a statement?" Peter pulled out her burner phone, preparing to dial the police as she looked over the woman standing before her. The other woman appeared to think for a moment before she shook her head. </p><p>"I just want to go home, but thank you for helping me," she responded, straightening her shoulders. </p><p>"I'm just doing my job," Peter replied lightly, "But if you want, I can escort you home in just a minute?" The woman nodded again, and Peter turned her attention away for a moment to dial the police and give the 911 operator the details of the crime and the location of where they could find the robber. </p><p>Crime reported, and the robber safely pinned to the wall, Peter offered her arm to the woman. She threaded her arm through Peter's with a small smile, and they set out in the direction of the woman's apartment. </p><p>All in a day's - well, night's - work for Peter. </p><p>She slept more that night than she had any other night since meeting Deadpool. The sun streaming through her non-existent curtains woke her up bright and early around 7:00 AM. Peter groaned at the bright light and burrowed her head under her pillow, pulling the covers over the pillow to secure her makeshift cave of darkness. Peter was in no way a morning person, she would sleep until noon every day if she could, and she was awake for barely a minute before she was slipping back into sleep. </p><p>When Peter properly woke up, it was just after noon. She blinked her sleep-crusted eyes and swiped at them for a moment. Her stomach grumbled loudly, and peter haphazardly stumbled out of bed and in the direction of the kitchen. She started the coffee pot that only worked occasionally (thankfully, today was one of those days), and then she put a pot of water on the stove for her Cup-O-Noodles. Ah yes, coffee and Cup-O-Noodles: the breakfast of champions. </p><p>After eating and showering, Peter pulled on her suit and climbed out the window onto the fire-escape. She took her time swinging lazily through the city before reaching the Avengers Tower. She dropped down, catching herself on the building somewhere around the 30th floor. The main living space was on the 34th floor, so Peter climbed up a bit before pushing up on one of the windows. She didn't know who it was that left the windows on the floor open, but every time she came in this way, the windows were always open. </p><p>Peter quietly climbed in the window before closing it behind her. Sneaking into the high-security building was always fun. But it wasn't really sneaking when she had security clearance to the building but just chose to use the windows instead, was it? It didn't really matter though, because it was all in good fun anyway, and it was a plus that Tony was always really irritated when he found her sneaking in through the windows. Tony was hilarious when irritated. </p><p>Peter climbed up the wall of the communal living room before making her way to the ceiling. She was headed straight for the familiar vent in the corner of the room; she always used the vents when she was feeling chaotic and didn't want the whole team to know that she was in the Tower. Tony <em>always </em>knew when she was in the Tower, though, because of Jarvis. The A.I. could be such a snitch. </p><p>Once in the vents, Peter crawled in the direction of the training room, the room that Natasha was most likely to be in if she was in the Tower. </p><p>"Thank you, Tony, for installing huge ass vents," Peter muttered to herself as she made her way down the tunnel. She had a hunch that the billionaire had insisted on such large vents for Clint, who Peter often ran into when she was climbing around in there. Clint did like to roost in the vents, so to speak. They were a good place to spy on people. </p><p>Peter crawled around in the vents for about ten minutes before she came face to face with Clint, who was crouching above a windowed vent that appeared to be directly above the kitchen. </p><p>"Hey, Clint," Peter greeted the archer, rocking back on her thighs. </p><p>"Spidey," he said back, not looking up from the view into the kitchen. Peter saw who she thought was Captain America walk towards the fridge and then disappear from sight. </p><p>"What are you doing?" She asked, leaning against the vent wall. She was still tired even though she had slept for a good thirteen hours. </p><p>"I rigged the microwave with a pot of slime so that I can get back at Cap," Clint said casually, a massive smirk on his face. Peter let out a small laugh before coughing to try and disguise it. She had been caught in the middle of the Tower's prank war more than once, and she had no desire to repeat that. </p><p>"So what's up? You need something?" Clint asked, finally lifting his head to stare at her. He raised an eyebrow as Peter looked back down at the kitchen, her right hand coming up to rub at the back of her neck. Suddenly, her quest to find out more about Deadpool seemed a whole lot more embarrassing. But Clint probably wouldn't prod that much. Probably. </p><p>"I need information on someone," Peter said, looking up at Clint. She tapped her fingers against her knees; she started replaying the snippet of a song she heard earlier that day to distract herself from her nervousness. She couldn't remember what the song was called,d but it had something to do with a sunflower. She'd have to look it up later. </p><p>"Easy enough; who is it?" Clint asked, his hands planted on either side of the vent grate as he looked down at the kitchen. Peter could see Captain America moving around in the kitchen before walking toward the microwave. </p><p>"Well, it's nobody special, just Deadpool-" Peter said in a quiet voice that was covered up by the shout that the star-spangled superhero let out as he was covered in neon orange slime. </p><p>"CLINT!" Peter covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laugher. She looked at Clint, and they both watched the super-soldier storm out of the kitchen. As soon as he was out of view, both Clint and Peter fell over laughing. Clint clutched his stomach as he guffawed, wiping a tear away from his eye as he continued to laugh. Peter giggled and clutched her side as it started to hurt from laughing so hard. </p><p>"Okay, now that I've properly slimed Cap," Clint said before laughing even harder at his innuendo. Peter shook her head as she blushed under her mask. </p><p>"Who'd you say you want information on?" Peter straightened as her laughter slowly dissipated. </p><p>"Okay, well, I ran into Deadpool the other day, and I couldn't find anything about him on Google so," Peter said in a rush, wincing beneath the mask as Clint's expression changed from humorous to cautious. </p><p>"Deadpool?" Clint clarified, his voice suddenly taut. There was a look in his eyes that Peter couldn't make out. </p><p>"Yeah, Deadpool," Peter nodded, relieved when the archer looked away for a moment. He appeared to be thinking for a moment before he nodded his head. </p><p>"Alright, gimme a couple of days, and I should be able to get you something." Peter sighed in relief, straightening. </p><p>"You're not going to tell me to be careful or stay away from him?" Peter asked, opening up the vent grate. </p><p>"I'm not Tony," Clint said, tilting his head to look at her as she prepared to drop down into the kitchen. "I'm not going to tell you what to do or who to hang out with. I'm not your dad, and that shit's stupid." </p><p>"Thanks, Clint," Peter said, her voice warm. Clint could be chaotic and a handful, but he was a genuinely good guy. Of course, Peter just had to go and ruin the entire interaction by shooting him finger guns, but you know. You win some, you lose some. </p><p>"No problem, Spidey," Clint said as Peter dropped into the kitchen. She straightened from her crouch and looked back up at him. </p><p>"I'll get some files to you in a few days, I've got to prepare for war," Clint called down, pulling the grate up to close the vent again. Peter laughed. </p><p>"Alright, thanks. I'll be on the lookout. See ya later!" Peter ran out of the kitchen and down the hall until she was back in the living room. As Peter started to climb up the wall, someone coughed behind her. She swiveled around quickly, her eyes darting around the room before coming to rest on someone sitting on one of the couches. From their uniform, Peter could tell that they worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. They wore horn-rimmed glasses - when had those come back in style? - and their long hair was pulled into a bun on the back of their head. </p><p>"Hi," Peter said with a small wave. She didn't like interacting with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents but that was because they were mostly a bunch of pretentious fucks. Mostly. </p><p>"Hello, Spider-Woman," Agent A -as Peter had dubbed them in her head - greeted her before standing up and walking over to her. They held out their hand, and Peter cautiously shook it. </p><p>"I'm Agent Leeson," they said, pumping Peter's hand twice before drawing it back. </p><p>"Nice to meet you," Peter said, raising her eyebrows under her mask. Agent Leeson looked to be hyper-focusing on Peter, and she didn't like it one bit. Her spidey-sense wasn't really acting up at the moment, it was more like a faint whisper in her ear. Regardless, she was on edge. </p><p>"Right. Well, I was just going, soo," Peter drawled, stepping back towards the wall as she pointed her thumb behind her. Agent Leeson raised an eyebrow and nodded. </p><p>"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Spider-Woman. I hope that we do meet again." Peter raised <em>her </em>eyebrows at that and just looked at them for a moment longer before she climbed the wall to the window she had used earlier. Then, she pressed up on the glass. Ignoring the weird agent behind her, she swung her right leg out the window, sticking her foot to the outside of the building as she climbed the rest of the way out. She gave one last look to Agent Leeson as she closed the window behind. They were still looking at her, and now they were grinning. Peter swallowed and shot out a web at a nearby streetlamp, swinging away in the afternoon breeze. </p><p>Aunt May called Peter shortly after she got back to her apartment. She was seated on her sagging couch, a box of granola in one hand as she held her phone up to her ear. </p><p>"Hi, May!" Peter greeted her aunt with what she hoped sounded like enthusiasm. She sank back into the couch with a yawn, stuffing more granola in her mouth. </p><p>"Hello, Peter," May replied with what Peter knew was a smile. She could hear it in the older woman's voice. She could also hear the thinly veiled concern. </p><p>"How've you been?" Peter asked, closing her eyes. She ate another handful of granola before putting the box down on the floor. </p><p>"I've been alright, I was swamped at the hospital this week. How are you, Sweetheart. You sound tired." Peter chewed on her lip at the worry in her aunt's voice. She knew that May wanted to press harder. </p><p>"Just had a lot of school this week, but I've been good," she tried to assure her. She didn't want May to have to stress about Peter more than she already did. Peter had told May about being Spider-Woman when she moved out at the beginning of college. As expected, May's worry for Peter increased at least double, and Peter thought that secretly, May felt guilty for not realizing sooner that Peter was out every night, swinging around the city and rounding up bad guys. Peter often left out anything to do with Spider-Woman unless May specifically asked. If she could try and save her aunt some stress, then she would, even if that meant not telling her the whole truth sometimes. </p><p>May just hummed in response, silence filling their conversation for a few seconds before the older woman spoke again. </p><p>"Did you want to do Italian for dinner on Wednesday?" She asked, her voice warm and easy. Their bi-monthly family dinner and movie/game night was next week; it was Peter's turn to pick dinner, and May would pick the movie or game. </p><p>"That sounds wonderful, May." </p><p>"Alright, Hun, well, I'll see you on Monday then, okay?" I love you." A small smile crossed Peter's face. </p><p>"Love you too, May. See you Wednesday, buh-bye," Peter pulled the phone away from her ear as May called out her farewell. She hung up and slowly stood up from the couch, reaching her arms above her head to stretch. Her back cracked with a satisfying pop, and Peter scooped up the box of granola from the floor before depositing it in one of the kitchen cabinets. She walked back to the living room and dropped down onto the couch again, groaning as the springs dug into her shoulder. She shifted until she found a comfy position, and then she closed her eyes with a sigh. She could use a nap. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed Chapter Three of All I Really Want is You! Thank you to everyone who has read, bookmarked, commented, and given kudos to this fic. It truly means a lot to me! </p><p>Leave a comment if you want to talk about the chapter or the fic or anything else, and I'll be happy to respond! You can find me over on Tumblr @yomama-umbridge, and my Ko-Fi is here: ko-fi.com/mac0413. If you would like to commission something, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-Fi, and I will be happy to talk about it and do that for you! If you want to come scream with me and talk about literally anything, head on over to my Tumblr. </p><p>I'll be back with Chapter Four, sometime this week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Danny's Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A surprise interaction with Deadpool, lots of information courtesy of Clint, and an alien encounter make for a busy spider.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Chapter Four, Danny's Song, is here! Today's chapter title comes from the song Danny's Song, and I chose the cover by Loggins and Messina. </p><p>You can, as always, find the playlist on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=awzj5GkXTC6kzw8euxOAWQ, and on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p. As a reminder, the Spotify playlist will play out of order unless you have Spotify Premium. The YouTube playlist will play in order. You don't have to listen to the playlist in order, but each chapter corresponds to a song, as does the entire story. The playlist has been updated up to Chapter Six. </p><p>Danny's Song is actually featured in this chapter like Sunflower was in Chapter Three. It's pretty early on, and I think it's fairly obvious, so you should be able to spot that Easter egg!</p><p>I'm so glad to hear that you guys have been enjoying this story! I hope you like Chapter Four!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter tapped her pen against her lip, her eyes staring straight ahead at the whiteboard as the droning tone of her professor's voice hummed in her ears. Her eyes might have been on the whiteboard, but she wasn't paying attention to a single thing going on in the classroom. She had earnestly tried to keep up with her professor and pay attention at the beginning of class, but ten minutes after she had sat down, her brain had wandered away from the realm of Biochemistry. Instead, all of her attention was focused on last night. </p><p>It started out as a normal patrol for once. She broke up two gang fights, and she had just finished intercepting a break-in at a pizza place in Queens when she heard the singing. It was a familiar voice, and the singing paused intermittently to allow talking and whistling. She couldn't make out any lyrics, but she knew that she had heard the tune before. It sounded like something Aunt May had sung to her as a child, but she didn't know for sure. </p><p>Usually, Peter would just ignore the strange singing and continue swinging up the street. Usually. But the voice was familiar, and on the off-chance that it was someone she knew, Peter looked down to find the source. Letting another web fly free, Peter spotted the singer, and the feeling of her stomach dropping had nothing to do with the fact that she was currently soaring through the air. </p><p>Hands clutching the straps of a Hello Kitty<span>™ backpack, Deadpool strolled down the sidewalk in full costume. The beat of Peter's heart immediately sped up, and she instinctively threw a web at the top of the nearest building - an apartment complex by the looks of it. She quickly scaled the building, pulling herself up as she turned her head to keep an eye on the singing mercenary. She scowled beneath her mask as she watched him continue to walk; this was the second time that her spidey-sense had failed her around Deadpool. What was it about him that made her sixth sense work improperly? As Peter continued to pout at Deadpool's capability to surprise her, she shifted her weight on the rooftop. She leaned further over the edge and nearly fell off of it. Thanks to her spidey-sense (which was working now to her bewilderment and frustration) and what was supposed to be an impeccable balance, Peter was able to catch herself at the last minute by the tips of her fingers on the edge of the roof. However, she grunted both from the surprise of the fall and the impact of hitting the side of the building. Peter started to haul herself back up to the roof, and as she contemplated whether or not there would be a bruise on her stomach, she vaguely noticed in the back of her mind that the singing had stopped. Peter chanced a look down, and seeing Deadpool looking straight up at her caused her to almost fall again. </span></p><p>
  <span>"Ohmygod, you're Spider-Woman! Am I dreaming right now? I must have been a good little boy last Christmas to get this kind of present!" Deadpool's cheerful rambles echoed up to Peter, and she rolled her eyes as she crouched on the rooftop, a few feet away from the edge this time just in case her body wanted to prove gravity's existence again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Spidey, I'm like your biggest fan!" Deadpool gushed, his hands coming up to press against his cheeks. The eyes of his mask were huge, and Peter breathed out a harsh, irritated breath. Her heart hadn't stopped racing yet, and she didn't know if that was because Deadpool was still there or if there was still adrenaline pumping in her veins. It was probably both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gotta tell ya, Spidey, that ass is like so much better in person." Deadpool's voice lowered, resembling the confident, deep tone he had spoken with at Starbuck's. Peter's cheeks burned, and she shivered. For a moment, she was glad that her mask didn't look like Deadpool's. If it did, he would be able to see how wide her eyes had gotten. Thanks to her mask, Deadpool would never be able to see her blush all the way from the ground. It somehow seemed that he knew about her blush anyway because his leer grew wider. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deadpool moved closer to the building, and Peter's eyes went wide for a very different reason. The last time she had interacted with Deadpool, she was dressed as Peter Parker, a grumpy college student from Queens who just wanted her coffee. Now, she was Spider-Woman. While they had only briefly met that one time, Peter knew - thanks to the tiny bits of information Clint had been sending her over the last two days - Deadpool had been in the Canadian military, specifically, Special Forces. If Peter was right, and she hoped that she wasn't, he would be able to recognize her from her figure alone. Deadpool was a loose cannon, at least he was right now, and she didn't know what the hell he would do if he knew that Spider-Woman was Peter Parker. She had not fiercely protected her secret identity for the last six years to lose it now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instincts taking over, Peter stood up from her crouch, preparing to jump off the roof. </span>
</p><p>"Wait, Spidey, I'm sorry about the butt comments, well I'm not really because it is a <em>spectacular </em>ass, but I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable!" Peter looked down at Deadpool once more, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. He had backed up a few spaces, and Peter thought that he might be trying to give her room. It was better to be safe than sorry, though, so with a <em>thwip</em>, Peter sailed off into the night. </p><p>"Okay, bye then, Spidey! Until we meet again!" Peter reluctantly chuckled as Deadpool's parting words rang in her ears. She let out all of her nervous energy in a huge gust of air, and she kept her eyes forward as she kept on swinging, rallying against every urge telling her to turn around and just get one more glimpse at the masked anti-hero. Her mind kept replaying their short interaction - particularly, the way that her spidey-sense had once again failed her, and Deadpool's truly inspiring comments on her ass - as she made her way through New York City, and she only noticed she was in Times Square when her vision was blinded by all of the bright lights. Peter blinked several times and then tried to head home, zig-zagging all over the place on the off-chance that Deadpool <em>was </em>following her. She really didn't want him knowing where she lived. At least, not yet. No, no, she didn't want him knowing where she lived, period. Nothing would change that. Right?</p><p>As soon as Peter was home, she took a shower and then collapsed on her bed, her pulse finally evening out. She groaned and covered her face with her hands as Deadpool's deep voice echoed in her mind. What the fuck was she doing? </p><p>It was safe to say that Peter had a lot on her mind the next day, hence the dilemma of her current Biochemistry class. Peter tried to center herself and refocus her thoughts on her professor, and she successfully managed to pay attention - mostly - for the remainder of the class. She even answered a question - and she was right, but that was beside the point. The point was that she got through the last half-hour of her lecture without thinking about Deadpool in any fashion, and she was going to take care of the rest of her thought urges - Peter wrinkled her nose at the way "thought urges" sounded in her head - as soon as she was settled in the campus library. </p><p>As soon as 4:15 PM came around, Peter bolted out of the classroom, taking the less crowded, back route to the library. Running through the doors and into the elevator, she realized she probably looked very manic, and she attempted to slow her breathing and pace herself when the elevator doors opened. She found a seat in one of the quieter corners of the fourth floor - the library practically became vacant after 4:00 PM - and she sat her stuff down before pulling out her laptop and powering it on. Unfortunately, her laptop was almost a decade old as it had belonged to a friend of Aunt May's, and neither May nor Peter had ever had the money to afford a new one, so this was what Peter was stuck with. A dinosaur piece of technology that usually worked but sometimes didn't and almost always needed to be plugged into an outlet or else the battery would die instantaneously. </p><p>After a few minutes spent messing around on the school's student portal, Peter finally opened her Spider-Woman email and turned to the real reasons why she had come to the library in the first place: Clint's most recent email. She had gotten the notification in class that he had sent her a new message, and that was what caused her to think about Deadpool and the previous night, to begin with. She could have read it on her phone, but Clint's previous emails had been length with classified documents, and Peter didn't want to take the chance that a passerby could see what she was reading. At least here, tucked into a corner of the library, Peter could read in peace without having to wait until she got home. </p><p>This email contained most of the same information that Clint had sent in other messages. It was mostly just information about Wade before he left the Special Forces in Canada. It included his real name - Wade Winston Wilson, which reminded Peter of the alliteration in her own name, which in turn spurred up a warm feeling in her chest that she <em>really </em>didn't want to think about right then - and birthday - November 22, 1981 - and then some brief information about his actual skills as a sharpshooter. It turned out that Deadpool was a perfect shot, and that didn't make Peter as wary of him as it should have. In fact, it actually made her happy, and she squirmed in her seat. But she was not going to analyze that at all. </p><p>Besides his military history, there was information on Deadpool's involvement with Weapon X and his mutation, but Peter pointedly decided to skip over that information. It was way too private to look at. </p><p>Peter still refused to refer to him as anything other than Deadpool, even in her own head, because as creepy as it felt going through all of his government files and personal information, it felt even creepier to use his name and other bits of information when he hadn't freely given it to her with consent. She was already feeling all kinds of guilt - not major spiraling fits like with Gwen; it was like something was inside of her stomach, gnawing at her from the inside out - going through his stuff, and she didn't want to make it any worse. Logically, she knew that this was information that was easy to find from a hacking standpoint, Clint had told her so, but that didn't make her feel any better. </p><p>Finished reading the mostly blacked-out documents, Peter powered down her laptop and zipped her bag closed, pulling her board off her bag as she walked to the elevators. It was a short trip outside, and then she was finally standing in the afternoon sunlight. She put her board on the ground before skating away, one eye on the pedestrians around her as she sped down the sidewalk. </p><p>It was mostly a quiet ride, and she was halfway home before her spidey-sense raised her hackles. Seconds later, she heard shrieks from nearby, and then, the sound of a car exploding. Peter quickly ducked into the nearest ally, crouching behind a large dumpster as she pulled her clothes off and put her suit on. She webbed her stuff to the dumpster before heading off to investigate the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from two streets over, and Peter was there in a matter of seconds. Standing in the middle of the street was a giant creature that looked like the Omnidroids from the Incredibles if they had blue, fuzzy skin. Great, more aliens. </p><p>The Avengers were already on the scene when she arrived, and as she landed on the pavement to guide several civilians to safety, Peter noticed Iron Man shooting ray after ray of energy at the alien while the rest of the team was on the ground fighting what looked to be miniatures of the large alien. </p><p>"Man, you guys are hogging all the fun. And you weren't gonna call me? I'm hurt," Peter called out as she swung by, her hand clutching her chest in mock injury. </p><p>"Spider-Woman! See if the team needs help on the ground!" Tony called out to Peter, and she rolled her eyes before shooting her way up to where Tony was. </p><p>"I'm better off up here. I think I know how to take it down!" Peter responded, simultaneously shooting webs out at a nearby building as well as the multiple legs of the alien. It's swinging arms tried to grab Peter and Tony out of the sky, but Peter was too fast, already on her next revolution around the creature. </p><p>"What the hell are you doing?" Tony shouted, trying to shoot the alien in one of its three eyes. Peter rolled her eyes. </p><p>"You would know if you'd watched the Incredibles or the Empire Strikes Back!" Peter yelled as she continued to throw webs around the alien's legs. It took a few minutes, but she was finally sure that if it was pushed hard enough, it would fall over. Naturally, Peter turned to Hulk. </p><p>"Hey, Big Guy!" Peter shouted with a smile, landing on Hulk's left shoulder. "Wanna help me take this dude down?" </p><p>"Spider!" Hulk cried, reaching up to try and grab Peter. Her spidey-sense alerted her of Hulk's grabbing hand before he swung it her way, and she jumped up in time to avoid it. </p><p>"C'mon, this way!" Peter called over her shoulder as she swung closer to the giant alien. Once they were about twenty feet away, Peter landed back on Hulk's shoulder and let him grab her. </p><p>"Okay, Buddy, I need you to listen to me," Peter said, trying to gain Hulk's attention back from where he was kicking several of the smaller aliens. </p><p>"When I say go, I need you to throw me at the big one, okay?" Hulk looked back up at Peter. </p><p>"Throw Spider on go." </p><p>"Yup, you got it. Okay, ready, go!" Peter blinked, and then she was airborne, headed straight for the large creature. She got her legs working and kicked the alien as hard as she could when she made contact with it. She shot out a web and managed to swing out of the way seconds before the alien toppled over and hit the sound with a deafening crash. </p><p>"Okay, that, I was not expecting," Tony called as he flew to the ground. Peter sighed in exasperation. She dropped to the pavement and helped Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Captain America quickly finish off the rest of the aliens. As much as she hated aliens - mostly they were just annoying with their "I'm here to take over the world!" bullshit - Peter did like fighting them because she could actually play and not hold herself back so much like she did when fighting people.</p><p>"You been reading the files I sent ya?" Clint asked as they stood back to back, firing arrows and webs at the aliens surrounding them. Peter managed to web up several of the small creatures in one go. </p><p>"Most of it, yeah. I"m not touching some of it," Peter answered honestly, webbing one alien to the brick wall behind Clint. The archer nodded his face thoughtful as his three arrows hit their marks. He sent one sailing into the alien Peter had pinned against the wall. </p><p>"Don't blame ya," he said, spinning around and knocking one alien to the ground with his bow. "Some of that stuff is too much, even for me."</p><p>"Thanks, by the way," Peter said, pinning the last one to the ground. </p><p>"No problem, Spidey," Clint said, a small smile on his face. "Your secret's safe with me. Well, it is for now."</p><p>Clint winked at her and then laughed when Peter just stared at him. She shook her head and turned to look at the aliens surrounding them. She webbed up all of the dead ones in a pile and all of the alive ones in another before turning back to the archer. </p><p>"If anyone asks, just tell them I was busy and couldn't stay!" Peter swung away without anything further, and she grinned as Clint's protest and laughter faded behind her. She definitely needed a shower. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for reading Chapter Four! If you enjoyed the chapter, leave me a comment! If you just want to talk about the story or anything in general, feel free to leave a comment, and I will absolutely respond! Thanks so much for all of the bookmarks, comments, and kudos; they truly make my day!</p><p>My tumblr is @yomama-umbridge if you want to come talk with me over there, and my ko-fi can be found at: https://ko-fi.com/mac0413. Consider buying me a coffee! I am also happy to talk about commissions, so head on over there if that is something you would be interested in!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hello My Old Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter goes to May's for Family Night. Having no idea what to do with the information Clint's given her, Peter turns to someone for help.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! I hope you all have been having a wonderful day. I am back with Chapter Six, Hello My Old Heart. Today's chapter comes from the song Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hellos. </p><p>I'm sorry there isn't an interaction with Deadpool in this chapter, but don't fret, because Deadpool will be featured heavily in Chapter Seven, so not too far now! </p><p>This was one of my favorite chapters to write because I just love writing May and Peter together so much. It's so wholesome and makes my heart happy.</p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this story on YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p, and on Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=SoD4KCR2SvaoP2iKgI_6Tw. Spotify will play out order unless you have Spotify Premium. </p><p>You, of course, don't have to listen to it in order, but each chapter and the story itself correlates to a specific song, and I listen to each song as I write each chapter. The playlist is updated through Chapter Six, so you all have a jump on what the next chapter title is, and what the content might contain! </p><p>There is a brief mention of Peter's insecurities when it comes to her body in this chapter. If that is something you would like to avoid, please stop reading at the line "She hadn’t worn it yet in front of May, so she plucked it from its hanger," and pick back up at "Peter, rather than waiting for her hair to dry." </p><p>Happy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clint sent Peter the first piece of actually useful information pertaining to Deadpool on Wednesday. Peter’s phone rattled on the bathroom counter Wednesday afternoon, sounding more like one of the toys that Peter had in her bedside drawer than a cell-phone on vibrate. Peter was in the shower, finger-combing through her hair as she hummed a tune under her breath. It was that same song that she heard Deadpool sing the other night. She still couldn’t remember what the name was or what the lyrics were, and the song had been playing in the back of her mind all day. She would have to ask Aunt May about it at dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter leaned her head back and let the stream of the shower wash away the soap on her body. The scent of it melded with the steam of the shower, and the entire room smelled like honey, oatmeal, and orange. It was a new soap that May had given her for her birthday in August, and the scent of it was muted way more than the other soaps Peter had used over the years. She had mentioned off-handedly to May at one point that a lot of scented things gave her a head-ache because her senses were so strong after the spider bite. Peter had a sneaking suspicion that May had bought this soap specifically because its scent was diluted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s phone vibrated again on the counter, and she sighed as she quickly finished up her shower. The only reason her phone would go off more than once was if it was May, MJ, or more recently, Clint. Peter had been bad lately about responding quickly to text messages, especially MJ’s, but she figured that whoever was texting her probably deserved a quick response. Peter grumbled under her breath as she cut her shower short. It was taking longer and longer for the water to heat up in her apartment, and she wanted to enjoy her hot showers for as long as she could before winter officially hit. She couldn’t really afford to take extra long showers, but it would be okay if she skimped on her meals (if one could call them that) every once in a while because she wanted to take a longer shower. She was a broke college student; there wasn’t much more that she enjoyed regularly on a daily basis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter dried off and threw her hair up in her towel as she dressed. She grabbed her phone, unlocking and swiping it to see the notification as she walked to her bed. She sat down and opened the email that Clint had sent, her eyes quickly scanning over the documents before she fixated on one specific piece of information. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls is a location frequented by Wilson. The building is rumored to be a bar where mercenaries and others gather to receive different hits. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter read over the rest of the email before locking her phone and throwing it on her bed. She had never heard of Sister Margaret’s before, but it couldn't be that hard to find. And if she couldn’t figure out where it was, Natasha or Clint surely could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter turned to her tiny closet, thumbing through her clothes to figure out what to wear to May’s. It was just their Family Night™, but Peter always tried to make an effort for her aunt. She didn’t want to give the older woman anything more to worry about, and if Peter showed up in a shirt that she’d had since 7th grade. Well, May just might worry that Peter didn’t have money for new clothes - which to be fair, she didn’t - and give her some extra money which Peter </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>May couldn’t afford. So, the newer - two years old was hardly new, but that was as new as her clothes got - outfits in her closet would have to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them was the dress she had worn to her college graduation which was a no. It was the nicest thing in her closet. Peter had splurged on the $200 item with her money from The Bugle, and it was absolutely beautiful, this long scarlet, skintight thing with an empire-waist - she thought that was what that was called - and small, off-the-shoulder sleeves. That was an automatic and absolute no. Peter also had a lovely, thin, Peter-Pan collared shirt that she could wear with her black pencil skirt, an item that she had originally bought for an interview but looked great on her. The shirt was grey and had anatomical hearts printed all over it. But Peter had worn that the last time she had dinner with Aunt May, so it was also out of the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last item in Peter’s closet that wasn’t a nerdy t-shirt was a light blue vacation-esque button-down, complete with a tropical fish print and gold seashell-shaped buttons. It was a gift from May for her last birthday, and while most people would find it tacky, Peter thought it was just perfect. She hadn’t worn it yet in front of May, so she plucked it from its hanger. Besides, paired with her pencil skirt, the outfit made her waist and stomach look amazing, and drew the attention away from her thighs. She was slowly starting to like how she looked more and more, but it was hard to get rid of all of the internalized hate for her body that had been instilled in her. Peter shook her head as she thought about how fucked up society was, and she finally threw on a pair of socks and her old red sneakers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter, rather than waiting for her hair to dry, threw it up in what she thought resembled a bun but really just looked like a mess. She was going to ask May if she wouldn’t mind cutting Peter’s hair while she was visiting. Looking in the mirror one last time, she left the apartment, only pausing to lock the door behind her. She stopped on her way to May’s to grab dinner from their favorite Italian restaurant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter!” May’s cheerful voice immediately caused Peter to grin. She paused in the doorway to wrap her aunt in a tight hug, careful not to squish the takeout bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Aunt May,” Peter said, sighing as she relaxed. She always felt at home with May, and she had been anticipating seeing her all week. Well, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>when her mind was giving her a break from thinking about Deadpool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me take that from you.” Peter gave the takeout bag to May before moving to the kitchen, opening the cabinets to take down plates and cups. The two women worked in tandem to get the small kitchen table set up before sitting down, across from each other. They were both quiet for a few minutes while they ate before May broke the silence. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you, Dear? You look tired,” she said, stilling Peter’s hand as she went to take another bite of pasta. She tried to smile reassuringly at her aunt, but she knew that May could see right through her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been doing okay, May,” Peter said, grasping the older woman’s hand in her own. May’s palm was soft, and Peter could smell the lilac scent of the lotion she’d been wearing since Peter was a baby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just been a lot with school and The Bugle,” Peter resumed eating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So there’s no new paramour?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MAY!” Peter screeched, her voice cracking as she choked on her food. She fell into a coughing fit, and Peter could see the slightly guilty yet still mischievous look in May’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, absolutely not,” Peter insisted, pounding on her with her fist. May just hummed in response and twirled her pasta around her fork with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you even think that?” Peter asked, her voice cracking at the end of her sentence. She knew her cheeks were flaming, and she wanted to curl up in a hole somewhere where no would find her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve just got that look,” May smiled, and she looked ten years younger as she teased Peter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you might want to get your eyes checked,” Peter joked, a giggle rising up in her chest. It felt slightly hysteric, so Peter pushed it back down. Jesus, she was acting like she had some schoolgirl crush that she wanted to cover up. Nope, she was not going to think about Deadpool like that. Moving on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alrighty, so just school and work then,” May hummed as Peter huffed out her nose and bit into her garlic bread angrily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how’s the hospital?” Peter asked, once her mouth was free of food. May had raised her with manners, and she would be damned if she didn’t use them around the woman herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know, it’s almost time for winter, so a lot of people have been coming in recently. Lots of people with the flu,” May said as Peter collected their dishes and took them to the sink. “Which reminds me: have you gotten your flu shot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, May, I always get my flu shot,” Peter rolled her eyes with a smile, filling the sink with water. She grinned at May as the older woman pulled out a dish towel to dry with; Peter always washed, and May always dried. While washing, Peter brought up the subject of her hair to May, and the older woman agreed to cut it after the dishes were done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, it’s getting a bit unruly, isn’t it?” May asked with a laugh, and Peter splashed her aunt playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the dishes were put away, May moved to the bathroom to grab her hair-cutting shears. They weren’t the ones that Peter remembered from her childhood, but May had replaced those scissors long-ago. Her aunt had cut her and Uncle Ben’s hair all throughout Peter’s life, so getting new scissors once every few years was a must. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sat down again at the kitchen table. May draped a towel around Peter’s neck and shoulders and took her hair down from its chaotic bun. She relaxed as her aunt carefully combed through her wet hair, and half an hour later, Peter was smiling in the mirror as she brushed her hands through her short hair. She loved how pixie-cuts looked on her, and her hair was so much easier to manage when it was short. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hair now cut and in the garbage, Peter and May moved to the living room where May had The Empire Strikes Back queued up on the TV. Peter smiled and made her way to her usual spot on the couch. Watching a movie that they had both seen hundreds of times, like Star Wars, allowed May and Peter to sit and catch up with each other. May sat down next to Peter and draped a blanket over their laps. Over the next two hours, they talked about Peter’s classes and the new nurse at the hospital, Jamie. From the way May talked about her, Peter suspected that the two women were closer than “just friends,” but she would leave the matter alone. For now. Throughout their conversation, Peter kept it firmly away from Spider-Woman and any and all possible mentions of Deadpool. She didn’t even want to imagine what her face would like like if he came up while they were talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take care of yourself, Peter,” May whispered and hugged her close as they stood beside the front door. “And please, if you need anything, tell me. You can come over anytime, you know. You don’t just have to wait for our Family Nights.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, May,” Peter sighed, squeezing her before letting go. She really needed to see her aunt more, she just didn’t have the time, unfortunately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Peter said, opening the door and stepping through it. “I’ll call you later. G’night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Sweetie, I love you too. Get some rest!” May called with a wave. Peter returned the other woman’s smile before heading down the hallway and out of the apartment building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way home, Peter debated on what she wanted to do about Deadpool. Ever since she got Clint’s last email, she had been thinking about whether or not she wanted to go to Sister Margaret’s to seek him out. She was a little disappointed with the information that Clint had sent her. He had given her what he thought was relevant information, and while Deadpool’s military history was very impressive and certainly notable, she still wanted to know more mundane, personal things about him like his favorite color. The “important” things like whether or not he was actually crazy and a danger to New York and herself weren’t the things that her mind was infatuated with. She wanted to know what his favorite constellation was, and if he preferred red wine or white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter groaned as she let herself into her apartment. She should not have been thinking about the song that always makes Deadpool dance or the one book that he loathed, but she couldn’t stop herself. For some unknown reason, she was absolutely obsessed with him. She had tried to pin it on the issue of him not triggering her spidey-sense, but she knew in her mind that that wasn’t it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter flopped down on her bed and pulled off her sneakers, throwing them toward her closet. She tugged her skirt off haphazardly and unbuttoned her shirt, tossing her clothes in a corner of her room. Lounging in her underwear, she flopped over onto her stomach, leaning on her elbows as she typed on her phone. She swiped for a few seconds before she paused. Her thumb hovered over the cracked screen for a minute before tapping on it. She raised the phone to her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” The familiar voice greeted Peter through the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was going to Sister Margaret’s. But she was going to need some help, first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I need your help with something.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Who do you think Peter called? Let me know down in the comments! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a kudos and/or a comment! I enjoy seeing all of the interaction here on my lil fic, and I do respond to all comments, so I am happy to talk to you about anything!</p><p>You can also come talk to me on my Tumblr; I am @yomama-umbridge over there! If you would like a commission from me, I am currently taking them. My Ko-Fi is here: https://ko-fi.com/mac0413. You can also message me on Tumblr or on here, and we can also talk here about commissions!</p><p>Have a lovely day, and I will be seeing you again shortly!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Tee Shirt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter makes some startling revelations before heading to Sister Margaret's.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, y'all! Sorry, it's been a little long between updates, but school and life, in general, has been kicking my ass lately. Here is Chapter Six, and while this chapter does not feature Deadpool, Chapter Seven does. I actually just finished writing the first draft, and I loved it. I can't wait for you to read it!</p><p>Chapter Six is titled Tee Shirt for the song Tee Shirt by Birdy. As a friendly reminder, there is a playlist for this story, where you can find all of the songs that correspond to the story and each chapter. They are in order as they appear in the story, but you don't have to listen to the playlist in order, of course. You can find it here on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=UP2FRSb_RzSR9sa58pUyPA <br/>or here on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p. The playlist will play out of order on Spotify unless you have Spotify Premium, but it should play in order on YouTube. The playlist is updated through Chapter Seven, so you all will have a little teaser for the next chapter!</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Peter woke up slowly on Thursday morning. Her alarm was set for 7:40 AM, but her eyes opened for the first time just after 6:30. Rolling over to peer at the cracked clock, Peter sighed and rubbed at her eyelids before rolling back over and closing her eyes. She floated in a daze, but she didn’t really sleep for the next hour. She mostly just laid there, listening to the cars driving in the rain. The man who lived one floor down was starting his coffee pot. Did Deadpool drink coffee? What was he doing at 7:20 AM on a Thursday morning? Was he still trying to cling to the last vestiges of sleep like Peter, or was he out jogging somewhere? What did he wear to sleep? The thought of all those muscles naked sent a blush to Peter’s cheeks. Maybe he slept in old, faded t-shirts. Were they red like his suit? Maybe he preferred a happier color like yellow or pink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Peter thought about Deadpool laying in her bed beside her as her brain started to wake up. Why was she thinking about that? Why was that picture in her head? She blamed the thought on her lack of caffeine. She wasn’t ever fully awake unless she had at least two cups of coffee. She wasn't responsible for any thoughts or actions before that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sat up in bed and swiped at the corners of her eyes. She needed to find Sister Margaret’s and get this whole Deadpool obsession over with. But she really didn’t know what she was going to do once she got there. From what Natasha had said last night, Sister Margaret’s was not the type of bar that a 21-year-old, white girl from Queens just “happened” to stumble into. Peter was going to need some sort of cover story. Unfortunately, that meant that another trip across town to the Avengers Tower. Goody. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still had classes to go to before that though, so she reached over and turned off her alarm before literally rolling out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. She shivered while waiting for the water to heat up, and then it was a quick five-minute shower after that. Karma was in her favor that morning because her coffee maker turned on without a struggle. Peter gulped down a cup of boiling hot, black coffee before pouring another cup in her one to-go mug. Then, she was rushing out the front door, grabbing her backpack and skateboard as she shut and locked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>School passed by in a blur as Peter struggled to stay awake. She was so tired, and when she was coherent enough to focus, her mind was focusing on the wrong things. She didn’t know what she was going to say to Natasha because even </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t know why she was going through all of this effort to see Deadpool again. Frankly, it was getting ridiculous, but she knew that she couldn’t keep living like this. Eventually, something was gonna have to give. Her grades were going to slip, and then, her job would be next, and she couldn’t afford for either of those things to happen. So she just needed to see and talk to Deadpool again to make this obsession go away. Right? Fuck if she actually knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter took her time putting her things away in her bag when her last class ended. She really didn’t want to make another trip uptown to the Avengers Tower, but she needed help. And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Natasha, she just didn’t want to have to deal with Tony or anyone else. Something that she knew was inevitable, especially considering that Tony hadn’t confronted her about using the window during her last visit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter found a dumpster halfway between campus and the Tower, and she webbed her backpack and board to the wall behind it as she changed into her suit. She breathed a sigh as her mask went over her hair without a fight. She had really missed her short hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long to swing to the Tower, and Peter used the window as usual. Someone let out a high-pitched shriek when she jumped through the open window, and Peter whipped her head around to see Bruce scowling. The scientist crouched to pick up papers scattered on the floor, and Peter let out a very small, almost nonexistent giggle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Bruce,” Peter said, picking up the rest of the papers before handing them to him. Bruce rolled his eyes with a good-natured smile and shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I guess I shouldn’t have expected any less considering the window’s open,” he said before waving goodbye as he walked down the hallway. Peter smiled beneath her mask and walked over to the vent on the ceiling. She jumped up and stuck herself to the ceiling before opening the vent door. Her spidey-sense tingled but not in a way that insinuated danger; it was a warm, familiar feeling that usually indicated a friend was approaching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The vents again? Don’t you ever walk around like a normal person?” Tony’s voice came from below her, and Peter looked down with a sigh. She wouldn’t really consider Tony a friend, but he certainly wasn’t a danger. He was mostly just a nuisance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave the kid alone, Tony,” Captain America spoke from the doorway. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his muscles bulging against the tight, white tank-top he wore. Peter blushed, and she was so grateful for her mask. Her crush was stupid, but it wasn’t her fault that America’s Boy Wonder was so fucking attractive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just here to talk to Nat. Is she in the training room?” Peter asked, trying to look as impatient as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she’s in the training room,” Captain America said with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Peter managed to say before saluting at both men and crawling into the vent like an actual cryptid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five minutes later when Peter dropped down into the training room, she immediately found herself knocked to the ground. Natasha’s foot pressed down on her stomach, and Peter gasped for breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, sorry,” Natasha muttered, grabbing onto Peter’s wrist and dragging her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’kay,” Peter said once she managed to get her breathing back under control. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for you, Spidey? Unless you’re just here to spar?” Nat asked as she walked back over to her practice dummy. She swiped a water bottle off the floor before taking a long drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need your help with something, Nat,” Peter said, sitting down on one of the gym benches. She had too much energy buzzing around inside of her to sit, so she stood back up. That didn’t work either. Naturally, she climbed the walls until she was on the ceiling and then started to pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figured as much. This about Deadpool?” Natasha raised an eyebrow when Peter walked over to her. Peter scrubbed at her face before nodding. She should’ve expected that Natasha would’ve known about Peter’s little research project. She was a trained spy, after all. </span>
</p><p><span>“Okay, so I haven’t really told anybody else this, not even Clint even though he’s the one that gave me all of the information,” Peter started, walking back and forth around the ceiling again. “But, I ran into Deadpool a little while ago, and for some reason, I just have this urge to know more about him, and Clint sent me the location of one of his hideouts, and I want to go in there, but I can’t go as Spider-Woman. I mean, can you imagine what The Bugle would say if they heard that Spider-Woman was visiting a mercenary bar?” </span><span><br/></span> <span>Natasha laughed and shook her head as Peter finally stopped pacing and dropped down to the floor again. It looked like Nat wanted to ask more about Deadpool and Peter’s reasoning, but Peter knew that it would just lead to Nat assuming this was something romantic, like May had, and Peter still didn’t know what the hell her feelings were, so they were </span><em><span>not </span></em><span>going to go there.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. So what’s your plan then? You’re just gonna visit Sister Margaret’s in your civilian clothes?” Natasha asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that I sound ridiculous, okay, but I can’t get him out of my fucking head, and I need to, so yeah, this is the only thing I’ve got right now,” Peter sighed, leaning against the wall as she covered her face with her hands. Nat walked over to Peter and pressed her left shoulder against Peter’s right. The small touch comforted her, and the young vigilante let loose some of the tension in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you sound ridiculous,” Nat told Peter once she had raised her head to look at the older woman. “I do think that if you’re going to Sister Margaret’s, you need some sort of cover story so that you won’t give yourself away as soon as you walk in the place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any ideas?” Peter asked, a small smile on her lips. She felt that the moment she tried to logically think this plan through, all her ideas left her brain. She was the epitome of no thoughts, head empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Nat blew a breath through pursed lips, ruffling the banks on her forehead. Presumably, she had been working out for a while, but she still looked as beautiful and put together as she did when going to a charity event or a gala. Peter wanted to know what her secret was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got it,” Nat smirked and leaned close to Peter. “Okay, come here, this is what we’re gonna do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s patrol had already taken her by Times Square and Queens by the time she made her way to Brooklyn. She swung up to a nearby building, leaning against the billboard advertising new, lower prices for the apartments inside. Her spirits were high, and she had been in a good mood all day. Really, she had been in a good mood since the day before when she spoke with Nat. They had come up with a good (well, Peter thought it was good) plan, and Nat was confident that it would work. Naturally, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> dared to doubt Natasha, Peter was also confident that it would work. There was the added bonus that it was Friday, and Peter’s professor had ended class early, and she didn’t have work or go to class the next day. The only thing that could dampen Peter’s spirits was the thought of actually speaking to Deadpool later that night. Peter had wholehearted faith in Nat’s plan, but that plan’s ending left Peter alone with Deadpool, something that Peter was simultaneously dreading and anticipating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Peter was </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good at compartmentalizing, it was practically a requirement of every millennial, so she just didn’t think about any of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter scanned the streets below her. It was about 7:50 PM, so while the sky had gone dark around an hour ago, there still wasn’t much for Peter to do. This is the way her early patrols had been going recently, anyway, so she was prepared for a lazy, slow pace in crime. She was supposed to meet Nat at Sister Margaret’s at a quarter past 9, so she still had time to kill. Suddenly, Peter’s spidey-sense pricked her skin. She looked at a nearby alley and spotted a small group of people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leeson!” someone in the alley called, immediately catching Peter’s attention. She thought of the agent that she had met at the Avengers Tower last week. How many people in NYC had the last name Leeson? Deciding that it was worth a look, Peter walked to the edge of the building and crouched down, eyes roaming over the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She easily recognized Agent Leeson; they were still in their S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, so how could she not? Across from the agent was a short man with a bad comb-over. He was probably shorter than Peter, and he wore a very fancy, pin-striped suit. It looked similar to a suit that Tony had worn once to one of those gala things. Both Leeson and the fancy man were in the middle of the alley but they stood about five feet apart from each other. Leeson stood at the back of the alley, and Peter tilted her head because they looked nervous? At the mouth of the alley stood two buff men, both well over six-foot. They were both facing outwards, and they looked like sentinels standing watch. There was one more person in the alley. It was another man, and he was also jacked, his stature similar to Captain America’s. This man appeared to be holding up a huge box; it was metal, and Peter thought that it resembled a coffin. What the fuck was Leeson doing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it in there?” Leeson asked, nodding their head at the box. They tried to look more casual as they stuffed their hands in their pockets. They weren’t doing a very good job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, the specimen is secured and fast asleep!” the shorter man, dubbed Richie in Peter’s head, declared, clapping his hands together. He gestured to the man holding the box, and M.A.B. (if she wasn’t trying to be stealthy, Peter would have giggled at her nickname - Man with A Box) lowered the box to the ground before typing in a code on the control screen on the lid. The screen lit up white before flashing a symbol: a black skull and tentacles. Then, the box slid to the side and opened. Peter leaned closer to the edge to see what was inside, and she almost let out a gasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resting in the box, hands by their sides and eyes firmly closed, was a very muscular figure. They looked to be just around 5’8, and they had long, blonde hair that fell to their shoulders. They were very pale, and as soon as Peter saw them, her mind went to Captain America and his fellow super-soldier boyfriend, Bucky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very nice. And how are the mental functions?” Leeson asked, breaking the silence. They were more confident, their back straight and eyebrow raised in question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Responds to a set of code words and can’t be controlled by anything else,” Richie smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Close it up.” Richie looked at M.A.B., and Leeson pulled out his phone and tapped on it for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The money has been wired to your account,” they spoke, their voice oily and sending a shudder down Peter’s back. “You’ll have the other half when it’s delivered to the address I sent you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do, as promised,” Richie chuckled before pointing to his men. Suddenly, a black SUV pulled up to the mouth of the alley, and M.A.B. loaded the super-soldier into the car. Richie walked toward the car and paused, turning back to Leeson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pleasure, doing business, as always,” Richie said with a wink, “I’ll be in contact for future orders.” Then, he climbed into the car followed by his three goons. Peter cursed silently as the car left; she couldn’t chase after them until Leeson left. Peter kept an eye on them as Leeson watched the car drive off before walking out of the alley. Peter’s spidey-sense lit a fire on the back of her neck, and quickly, she ducked. She caught a glimpse of Leeson stopping. They started to turn, looking around at the tops of the buildings. Peter’s heart raced as she listened for Leeson’s departure. After about five minutes, they started walking again. Peter stayed in her hiding place a few minutes longer to make sure they were finally gone before she peeked her head back up. They were gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” she snarled. In her haste to keep herself hidden, she had lost sight of the car, and she had no idea of where it had gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter collapsed with a heavy sigh against the roof. S.H.I.E.L.D. was working with Hydra. Again. Fan-fucking-tastic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter pulled out her burner phone and looked at the time: 8:20 PM. That whole interaction had taken less than ten minutes while it had felt like hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck,” Peter cursed as she shot a web out at the closest building. She needed to get home and get ready before she made her way to Sister Margaret’s. She raced across the city until she reached her small apartment building, climbing down from the roof until she was on her fire escape. She climbed in the window and ran to the bathroom, stripping off her suit as she went. She needed a shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter wasted no time waiting for the water to heat up, and she gritted her teeth against the sting of the cold water as she shampooed her hair. Her shower took a total of five minutes, and she was out of the water before it had even begun to heat up properly. She toweled herself off before sliding to a stop in front of her closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then came the real dilemma: her clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pants were easy, just a pair of black, skinny jeans. But she didn’t know what to wear for her shirt. She tried on multiple shirts, including one too many nerdy pun themed tees, before deciding on the shirt she had been wearing when she met Deadpool. It was a thin, dark-blue, long-sleeved turtleneck; the collar was high enough that it would keep out the chill of the city, and she threw on her light-brown coat because the temperatures had dropped that week. The coat was weathered and had seen better days, but it was the only one she had that didn't have holes in it. Her hair was dry now, thanks to it being so short, and she tried to smooth it out as she shoved her feet into her sneakers. It wouldn’t stay flat, unfortunately, and she thought she looked ridiculous with it sticking up in a million directions. She left it alone and pulled out her phone when it beeped. There was a new message from Nat saying that the cab to pick her up was at her apartment. Peter rolled her eyes; she had tried to tell Nat that she would find her own way to Sister Margaret’s but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so a cab paid in full by Nat was waiting outside. It would also take her home, and Peter had no idea how that would work, but she didn’t question it. Nat would probably be spying on her until she left the bar anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter grabbed her web-slingers that looked more like bracelets than anything else and slid them on her wrists. She raced out of the apartment, locked the door behind her, and took the stairs two at a time. She slid in the cab and greeted the driver, nerves making her voice crack. She grimaced and looked out the window as the cab pulled away from the sidewalk. She wished her stomach would stop churning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, we’re here,” the driver said, and Peter thanked him quite a few times. She tried to give him a tip as she got out of the car, but he waved her off and told her he would pick her up when she was done. Peter closed the door and looked around her. She was about half-a-block from Sister Margaret’s. She could see the door from here. Peter walked forward, hands shoved in the pockets of her coat and eyes cast downward. Nat had told her to just keep walking until she entered the bar, and Peter wasn’t interested in accidentally starting a fight with any of the drunk patrons wandering around outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter gulped as she looked at the door. Above it was a sign that declared it the doorway to “Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Girl’s.” Half of her wanted to run away and hide under her covers in bed, and the other half wanted her to open the fucking door already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here goes nothing,” Peter muttered to herself because this was such a cliche already, why not make it even more so? She slouched her shoulders just a bit more before gripping the handle. Letting out all of her nerves in one last sigh, Peter opened the door and stepped into the bar. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed Chapter Six. I had a blast writing it. How does everyone feel about Agent Leeson, right now? Let me know down in the comments! I'll be so happy to respond and talk with you guys about it or anything else! Thank you for all of the bookmarks, kudos, and comments. They truly make my day, and they keep me motivated to update this story! </p><p>I do have a Ko-Fi if you guys would like to commission a work, so you can find that here: https://ko-fi.com/mac0413. I would love to write something for you guys! </p><p>I'm also on Tumblr, so you can come scream at me there. I'm @yomama-umbridge. Come talk to me about this fic, Spideypool, or whatever else strikes your fancy. </p><p>I'll see you guys soon with Chapter Seven!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Be Around Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter meets Weasel, flirts with Deadpool, and has a panic attack on the way home.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Helllooo! I am back with Chapter Seven, Be Around Me. This chapter title is inspired by the song Be Around Me by Will Joseph Cook. I really loved writing the banter between Peter and Deadpool, but I struggled with Weasel. I'm not sure that I actually wrote him that well, but I did the best that I could. </p><p>There is some Russian in this chapter. It's only one word, and I used it as a platonic word of endearment. If it doesn't mean something like "dear" or "sweetheart" or something along those lines, please let me know if you know! I just used the internet, and it was on a list of terms for that sort of thing, so that's what I used. </p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this fic on Spotify <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=8S39w6DRRSCbW3ixEtW-Zg">here</a>. You can also find it on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p">YouTube</a>. As a reminder, the playlist will play out of order on Spotify unless you have Spotify Premium. It doesn't have to be listened to in order, but each chapter and the song itself corresponds to a chapter. The playlist is updated through Chapter Eight (which I am currently writing), so you all have a little sneak peek at the next chapter. </p><p>As a trigger warning, Peter does have a panic attack at the end of this chapter. If you would like to avoid that, please stop reading at the line, "Once the door was firmly shut and she was back to where she got dropped off, she let out a huge breath, leaning against the brick wall of the building behind her." Peter spirals for the rest of the chapter, so don't read on from that point. I will summarize what happened in the notes at the end, but please avoid that if it is triggering!</p><p>With that being said, happy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The scent hit Peter first. She had never been in a frat house before, but she imagined that this was what one would smell like. Cheap beer, sweat, smoke, weed, and strangely enough, buffalo sauce. Loud music played throughout the room, sounding like someone had taken 80’s music and modern rap music and mixed them together. Sister Margaret’s looked to be about the average size of a bar. Peter had only ever been to one other bar before, and it was about the same size. Toward the right of the room were several pool tables surrounded by quite a few people. There were also several booths and tables with chairs littered in the open space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar was on the left of the room, and manning it was an average-sized man with shoulder-length blonde hair and a pair of rounded glasses. That must be Weasel. Nat had given her some information about the bar, including its owner, and yep. He really was a greasy-haired man with bad posture. He seriously needed to work on that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter had immediately started to scan the room when she walked in, her eyes flitting around looking at the different people scattered throughout the bar. Her senses were in overdrive, including her spidey-sense, and she felt a headache quickly approaching. Her spidey-sense didn’t feel like a needle pricking her like it usually did in a high-danger situation; it felt more like someone raking their nails over her skin. She knew that was because most of the people in the bar weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>dangerous, so all of them together in one room didn’t increase the amount of danger her spidey-sense, for lack of a better word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it just made the sensation more intense. So basically, her head felt like it was on the verge of explosion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, it didn’t take long to spot Nat, hiding out in a booth in a corner of the room, and though she got a few weird looks, nobody really noticed her. Peter made her way across the room, and as she slid into Nat’s booth, she wished that her coat had a hood. She also slightly wished she had her Spidey mask, but there was no way in hell she was going to come here in costume. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter looked up at Natasha and scowled at the spy’s raised eyebrows. Nat had suggested that Peter approach the bar in her civies, and that meant no mask. And since Nat was also a major part of this plan, she was going to have to see Peter maskless. Peter hadn’t been the biggest fan of this idea, but besides Clint, there was no other superhero that she trusted more beside Nat. She knew that Nat wouldn’t breathe a word of her secret identity to anyone, including Clint, but that didn’t mean that she had to be happy about the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sat across from Natasha, though they both hunched over the table toward each other. The spy’s seat faced the bar, and Peter could practically see the wheels in Nat’s head turning as she looked at Weasel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pasha!” Nat finally spoke, turning to look at Peter with a shit-eating grin on her face. Peter narrowed her eyes at the other woman, her irritation not helping the steady pounding in her head. Nat had taken care of most of the plan, including all of the details, like Peter’s false persona. Nat and Peter were supposed to be an aunt and niece/goddaughter. Natasha had started planting tidbits of her own false persona long before Peter had even met the former spy. Apparently, Nat had frequent business in Sister Margaret’s and needed a false personality for that. It was easy enough, according to Nat, to add in other bits of information online and through a few others at the bar to include Peter. But, Peter did not get to chose her fake name because Nat had taken care of everything. And Nat had thought it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking funny to give her a name that meant “small” in Russian. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aunt Natalia,” Peter said, forcing her voice to sound calm and warm. She wasn’t really angry with her; her brain was just in sensory overload, and that always made her irritated and overwhelmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you, </span>
  <span>родная?” Peter softened at the worry present in Nat’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” she said with a small smile, but she knew that it wasn’t reaching her eyes. “You, Auntie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, you know how it is,” Natasha replied, rolling her eyes and leaning back in the seat. “Look, we’ve decided that you’re still too young.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me when I turned 21, I could join,” Peter said as if she was reminding Natasha. Natasha nodded her head and pushed one of the two shot glasses in front of her across the table. Peter grabbed the glass and downed the potato liquor. She tried not to scrunch her nose up as the vodka lit a fire down her throat and settled in her stomach. It would take a lot more to get Peter tipsy, let alone drunk. It was probably due to her spider mutation and very high metabolism, but she hadn’t had much experience with alcohol before the spider bite, so she had nothing to compare it to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, родная, I did,” Nat agreed after draining her own shot glass. “But I’m already in deep shit with your mother, and everyone else agrees that you’re still too young. Give it a few more years, you should be fine by 25.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two women continued to converse back and forth for around an hour. At one point, Natasha went to the bar to order more drinks, and Peter took the time to scan the room again. There was still no sign of Deadpool, and she was getting antsy. She wanted this to be over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, родная, I think it’s time for me to leave. I’ve got to get home,” Nat finally said at 10:30. Peter raised an eyebrow at her, and she nodded in response. They had agreed that Nat would leave when Deadpool arrived. Maybe she had people outside the bar as scouts. Spies hired by another spy. Spyception. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Auntie, give my love to the boys,” Peter said, standing up from the booth. Natasha stood up as well and grabbed her purse before wrapping her in a tight hug. Natasha slid something into Peter’s front pocket as they pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go have a few more drinks before you go home, m’kay. Relax,” Natasha said with a wink. She started to walk away before calling out over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I better see you on Sunday for dinner!” Peter let out a nervous chuckle in response and watched as her “Auntie” left the bar. Peter stood there for a few seconds. She let out a deep breath, ruffling the fringe on her forehead, before heading to the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasel was uglier up close. From far away, you couldn’t see that his face was greasy and that his shirt was covered in stains. Peter wondered if he had any other facial expressions besides the sneer he was wearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I get ya, Kid?” Jesus, Peter hadn’t even sat down yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, a Vodka Sprite?” Peter asked, trying not to let her voice shake or crack or do anything else embarrassing. Weasel nodded, looking her up and down for a few seconds before turning away and grabbing a glass from underneath the counter. He moved fast, pouring first the liquor then the soda. He handed it to Peter, and she tried not to cringe at the smeared stains on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she muttered, settling back into her seat. She leaned over the bar and kept her eyes down as she sipped at her drink. God, could it be any more flat? She could feel Weasel looking at her, so she looked back up at him with her eyebrows raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your auntie’s been around a few times, but you’re a firstie,” Weasel stated. Peter stared at him before realizing that he was probably waiting for a response. She nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, Kid?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pasha,” Peter lied straight through her teeth. It was easy now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasel hummed and crossed his arms, staring at her for a long moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weasel,” he said, reaching a hand out for her to shake. Peter took it. He was still looking at her when she pulled away; there was something in his eyes that she didn’t like. It was predatory but not in a fun way. Peter just stared at the bar top until he walked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s eyes roamed over the bar quickly. Besides the normal stuff like alcohol and glasses, there appeared to be a chalkboard above the bar itself. It had a list of names and prices, and it said “Sister Margaret’s Dead Pool” across the top. Well, now she knew where Deadpool got his name. Besides the chalkboard, the only other interesting thing about the bar itself was a computer at the cash register. It seemed to be connected to the register, and Peter watched Weasel type away at it for a solid five minutes without looking up. That must be how he got all of his information. He had probably looked Natasha and Peter up the second they walked into the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter pulled out her burner phone and thumbed through it, trying to read through her emails from Clint without anyone seeing. She sat there for about ten minutes and managed to drain half of her glass. The alcohol was slowly starting to take the edge off her headache, but Peter could still feel the pounding beneath her temples. She wanted to be in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, the door to Sister Margaret’s opened and slammed against the wall, causing Peter to jump. She narrowed her eyes at her phone screen as the entire bar seemed to quiet for a minute before resuming its previous level of noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YO WEASEL HAVE I GOT A STORY FOR YOU!” Deadpool’s voice called out through the bar. Along with his shout, the red and black boots now standing in front of the bar confirmed Peter’s theory that Deadpool had finally arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want? You finally make it past first base?” Weasel asked, his tone more serious than not. Peter tried not to be obvious as she looked at the two out of the corner of her eye. Deadpool didn’t even spare her a glance as he sat down two seats away, plopping his elbows on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least I’ve made a home run before, ya asshole,” Deadpool said, motioning with two fingers. Weasel gave him a questioning look that didn’t seem very nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is that supposed to be?” Weasel asked as he copied the mercenary’s gesture. “Tell me what the fuck you want instead of acting like a fucking hipster.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a douchebag, Wease, hipsters are cool,” Deadpool defended, leaning back in his chair. “And you know what I want, three shots of tequila, stat.” Weasel rolled his eyes and turned around to grab a bottle of what Peter assumed was tequila. Deadpool seemed very antsy as he danced in his seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, out with it, you look like a teenager seeing Harry Styles on TV,” Weasel remarked, pouring three shots. He looked up as he slid the shots across the bar, and Peter hurriedly looked back down at her phone, slumping even more in her seat to keep Weasel’s eyes off her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, so I was out on a hit earlier, and as I was trying to tie the dude to his washing machine - I figured the heavy cycle would work pretty well for an explosive - his fucking wife comes in, right. That’s no surprise, the asshole’s a fucking cheater, and his wife was gonna find out sooner or later, so she comes in, sees me, him tied to the washing machine, and the bomb on the floor, and asked if she could help! Let me tell you that was one of the best hits I’ve been on in a while,” Deadpool rambled, slamming a fist down  He talked very quickly, yet he was still understandable, and Peter had to fight the grimace that was fighting its way to her face at the story he was telling. A bomb in a washing machine, really? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chanced a look back up at Weasel and Deadpool, and she noticed that the mercenary had somehow drained all three of the shots without making any movements toward himself. Either Peter was losing it or the dude had some sort of lighting speed. She hadn’t even seen him reach for his mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least tell me you didn’t blow up the whole fucking apartment this time,” Weasel whined, taking the glasses and placing them on the counter behind him. Peter didn’t think they were going to be washed anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Wease, I only blew up </span>
  <em>
    <span>half</span>
  </em>
  <span> the apartment,” Deadpool giggled, wiggling his eyebrows. God, his mask was so infuriating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasel groaned, and Peter’s spidey-sense barely twinged as he slapped his bar towel onto the counter. It landed very close to Deadpool’s hand, yet the mercenary didn’t so much as flinch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another, Kid?” Peter jumped as she realized that Weasel was talking directly to her. She looked up from her phone and gave a very small nod before looking back down at her phone. Her cheeks were bright red, she just knew it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fucking shit, it’s you!” Peter jumped again as Deadpool shouted, yet this time, it was aimed in her direction. She turned to look at him, her heart beating quickly in its cage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you changed your hair! Little bunny, it looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>good.” Deadpool’s smirk turned lecherous, and Peter gulped as his voice lowered. God, not this again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, if you haven’t got the sweetest brown eyes I ever did see,” he continued, and Peter barely managed to raise an eyebrow at the comment. Her eyes were just plain brown, thank you very much. “You look just like Bambi with all of those freckles and those huge brown eyes. I know I said this the first time we met, but I don’t think it went through: I could just eat you up, I swear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I swear if you don’t stop eye-fucking at my bar, I will squirt you with the soda hose,” Weasel interjected as he sat Peter’s glass down in front of her. She grabbed it and gulped down half of its contents, not even recognizing the burn in her throat. Everything had faded to the background as Deadpool took over her focus front and center. Her headache, her spidey-senses, her sensory overload. It all seemed to have just slipped away without her noticing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see a sign anywhere saying it’s prohibited,” Peter finally retorted, swallowing as her voice threatened to crack. Weasel raised an eyebrow at her; he scanned her up and down again, much like he had when she first sat down, before rolling his eyes and moving to the cash register at the other side of the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was hawt,” Deadpool drawled, planting his elbow on the counter. He turned to face Peter entirely, and she knew she was screwed as he set his chin in his hand, giving her his entire attention. Her eyes were drawn to the ground as he used his foot to nudge the stool between them out of the way. Then, he put the tip of his boot beneath the rungs on her seat before pulling it towards him. She only slid a couple of inches, but she could feel his body heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter was slack-jawed as she turned her attention back to Deadpool’s face, and she couldn’t have controlled her expression if her life was on the line. Deadpool winked at her through the mask. That so wasn’t fair!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deadpool at your pleasure,” he said abruptly, sticking his hand out between them. Peter felt the tension dial back down as she cautiously took his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘at your service,’” Peter corrected as Deadpool brought her hand up to his lips. Before she could try to yank her hand away - which, to be honest, she didn’t even know if she would have done that if she had the time to - he kissed the back of her hand. Smooth, warm leather pressed against her skin, and she almost relaxed into his hold before she realized what she was doing, and she quickly yanked her hand back with a scoff. Deadpool’s grin assured her that he didn’t buy her defenses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That too,” Deadpool flirted, relaxing back against the bar. His foot still rested on the bottom rung of Peter’s stool, and she wanted to melt into the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name, Baby Girl?” Deadpool hummed, tilting his head. There was that pesky tension again. Peter licked her lips. Her face was never going to go back to its normal color. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pasha,” Peter claimed, picking up her drink again. She finished it off, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> felt a slight buzz. Unfortunately, she knew it wouldn’t last more than ten minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pasha,” Deadpool repeated, nodding his head up and down. “You’re a pretty good liar, but no dice. I’ll take it though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Pasha,” Peter defended firmly, clenching her teeth together. She was a great liar, for the record. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re so cute,” Deadpool cooed, putting his chin in both of his hands. “You just keep telling yourself that, Sweetheart.” Peter groaned and forced herself to look around the bar. She reminded herself that she needed to get more information out of him. That was the reason she was there, to begin with, not to just sit and flirt with him. </span>
</p><p><span>“Seriously, the name is Wade Winston Wilson,” he finally said with a salute. Of course, he had to go and ruin it with, “But you can call me tonight.” </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“Is everything you say a terrible pick-up line?” Peter managed to get out with a small laugh. Deadpool, no, Wade chuckled. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” he replied, popping his lips together. Peter rolled her eyes playfully. Weasel suddenly appeared, coughing loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya done yet? I’m trying to run a respectable business here,” Weasel complained, taking away Peter’s empty glass. He raised his eyebrow in question but she shook her head. She started digging around in her pocket for the cash Nat left there before she was interrupted by Deadpool - no no Wade - speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put Bambi’s on my tab, won’t ya, Wease.” Peter assumed it was supposed to be a question, but it sounded like a command. She started to protest but was cut off by Weasel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna fucking take money off your next hit, Wilson, if you don’t pay your tab,” Weasel threatened, pointing his bar towel at the mercenary. “You’ve got more than enough money floating around in those pockets of yours, so I don’t know why you keep blowing me off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re not letting me have free drinks, are you really my friend?” he asked innocently, somehow raising both eyebrows through his mask. Peter let out a small giggle. She wasn’t really interested in interrupting their conversation to discuss payment, anyway. She was broke; she’d like to save all the money she could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Weasel said flatly, and </span>
  <span>Dead</span>
  <em>
    <span> Wade</span>
  </em>
  <span> slumped back in his seat with a hand over his heart. Peter took this as her cue to get up and pull her coat on. She didn’t say anything until she turned to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta bounce, Sweetheart,” she snickered as she repeated his exact words from their first meeting. “But let’s do this again sometime, m’kay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter turned on her heel and walked to the entrance of the bar. She could hear </span>
  <span>De</span>
  <span> Wade shouting behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you soon, Baby Girl! Weasel, she referenced me! A woman after my own heart!” Peter barely contained her laughter as she opened the door and stepped outside. Once the door was firmly shut and she was back to where she got dropped off, she let out a huge breath, leaning against the brick wall of the building behind her. What the fuck did she just do? Did she really just have a whole conversation with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deadpool</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Weasel in a bar loaded with dangerous mercenaries and criminals? And did she </span>
  <em>
    <span>flirt</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Deadpool on top of all of that? What the fuck was she thinking? Sure, she had her web slingers on, but what if she had to use them? She would have given away her entire identity, and the whole world would know that Spider-Woman was a broke college student from Queens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s breath came quicker, and a car pulled up in front of her. It was the same cab from earlier, and she could see the driver wave at her from the front seat. She fumbled with the door, and it took a few tries before she was able to open it and spill into the seat. She quickly closed the door before pulling her knees to her chest. She could feel the driver looking at her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to be in her bed, she could feel the walls of the cab pressing in on her, and her headache was back, pounding at her skull. Her senses were in overdrive, she could hear the almost car-wreck three streets away, and there was a couple in the apartment building to her left arguing about the heating bill, and everything seemed way too bright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brain wouldn’t stop thinking. The walls of the cab were caging her in, leaving her vulnerable to the guilt and anger and </span>
  <em>
    <span>devastation </span>
  </em>
  <span>that flooded through her as she thought about Gwen. Why was she thinking about Gwen? She couldn’t stop. She kept seeing that awful, pained expression on her face when she hit the ground, Peter’s web seconds too late to save her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter knew they were at her apartment when the car finally slowed to a stop and stayed that way. Peter took a few gulps of air before uncurling herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-thank you,” she managed to say, “here, I don’t have much but I have enough to tip-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. Ms. Widow has it covered,” the cabbie said firmly, waving off her efforts. Peter sighed and nodded before slowly climbing out of the cab. She heard a faint “Have a goodnight!” as she closed the door behind her. She couldn’t get into her building fast enough, and she didn’t have enough energy to take the stairs, so she pressed her hands over her eyes as she waited for the elevator. The usually quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>ding </span>
  </em>
  <span>sounded like a scream, and Peter swallowed her tears as she got in the elevator and blindly pushed the button for 6. It was a slow, torturous ride to her floor, but she was finally there, and then she was in front of her door, and it took an eternity to get the key in the lock before she was stumbling into her apartment. She quietly shut the door with all of the energy she could muster and flipped the lock before racing for her bathroom, stripping her clothes off as she went. Her sweater felt like it was scraping off her skin, and the fabric of her jeans was dragging across her legs. Finally naked and in the bathroom, she closed the door and reached for the knob, turning on the water. She didn’t even wait for the water to heat up, she just got in and slid to the floor. Freezing cold water pelted against her tender skin as she finally let loose her sobs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flirting with Deadpool had just brought up all of the emotions she had once felt for Gwen, and she didn’t even realize that that was happening until she was out of the bar and waiting for the cab. The sensory overload and realization that she had let her guard down in a bar chock full of dangerous individuals while in her civies had also shaken something loose in her, and her mind was just a tumultuous cyclone of guilt, anger, and fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Peter was able to focus on the cold water instead of the thoughts racing through her mind, and she heard her teeth chatter from the temperature. She turned the water to as hot as she could get it, and even though it stung, it started to regulate her body temperature. She wiped her face and stood up, bracing herself against the shower wall. She wiped at her face several times and after standing underneath the now lukewarm spray for a few more moments, she turned the water off and got out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely dried off and totally exhausted, Peter managed to get under the covers before she passed out. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed Chapter Eight! For those that skipped Peter's panic attack scene, Peter was picked up by the cab that dropped her off, and then she went home, took a shower, and went to sleep. She thinks a lot about Gwen's death, and she mostly feels guilty about it and for letting herself get distracted in a bar full of criminals. </p><p>I am basing Peter's anxiety and slight depression off of my own experiences. I have never had something like Gwen's death happen to me before or anyone I know, but the way that her anxiety acts and the feelings Peter experiences are much similar to my own. My coping mechanisms are like Peter's, using a cold shower and such, but they are different and better at this point due to my own personal progress. Everyone's anxiety is different, so Peter's anxiety and therefore my own, will not be the same as any experiences that you may have. </p><p>If you liked the chapter, let me know! Thank you to everyone who is engaging with this fic, it means a lot to me! I am on <a href="https://yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> if you would like to come talk to me there. You can find me on Ko-Fi here: ko-fi.com/mac0413. My commissions are open, and I am happy to talk to you about whatever. Just leave me a comment on here or buy me a coffee there, and we can talk about it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Voodoo Doll</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter procrastinates and heads back to Sister Margaret's.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you are all having a fantastic day. I am here with Chapter Eight, and the title for this chapter is Voodoll Doll, inspired by the song Voodoo Doll by 5 Seconds of Summer. </p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this fic on Spotify <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=k_lxNMGXQrCRxkvD7ddQGg">here</a>. You can also find it on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p">YouTube</a>. As a reminder, the playlist will play out of order on Spotify unless you have Spotify Premium. It doesn't have to be listened to in order, but each chapter and the song itself corresponds to a chapter. The playlist is updated through Chapter Eight. I am in the process of writing Chapter Nine and Ten, so those songs will be added there very soon. </p><p>As a small trigger warning, Peter does briefly mention her panic attack from the night before. That starts here at the beginning with the line, "Peter woke slowly," and ends here, "There was still one thing she couldn't shake from her mind, and for once, it had nothing to do with Wade." You won't actually miss anything content-wise, Peter just thinks about how her feelings for Wade and the feelings she felt for Gwen are very similar.   </p><p>I'm sorry if this chapter seems to be lacking in any way. I did not particularly enjoy writing this chapter, and I think I did a poor job of writing it. I'm hoping that I'll be able to shake off this funk, and I will be back to my regular level for the next few chapters. </p><p>As always, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Peter woke slowly, and as the memories from the night before rose to the surface of her mind, she laid there and took it all in. She hadn’t had a panic attack like that in a long time, but this time she could actually pinpoint what had made her spiral. Usually, when Peter had a panic attack, she couldn’t remember or recognize what had actually started her attack in the first place. This time was different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flirting with Deadpool, with Wade, had made her feel so many emotions that she didn’t have names for all of them. It had given her a rush, and she felt wanted for the first time in a long time. She hadn’t felt that way since Gwen. Since Gwen… died. Gwen had made Peter feel like the luckiest and happiest person alive. When they would hold hands, Peter felt like she was floating, her legs pumping through the air but never quite touching the ground. When Peter couldn’t save her, when Peter was too slow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No no, stop that now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Peter thought as she drew the covers up and over her head. When Gwen died, she took all of those feelings with her. There would never be another person like Gwen. She had thought that no one else would ever make her feel that way again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, there she was, hiding under the covers, her heart pounding as she recalled the words that had flowed so easily between her and the masked mercenary. She hadn’t even thought really as she traded quips with him, and it had felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She had just let go and flirted with Wade - it was going to be very hard to start referring to him like that instead of as Deadpool - and she genuinely enjoyed herself. But once she left the bar and started to think through everything that happened, the guilt had just crashed down on her. Guilt for moving on, guilt for enjoying herself when Gwen was cold and in the ground, guilt for not even thinking about Gwen </span>
  <em>
    <span>once </span>
  </em>
  <span>throughout the whole evening. And then, she realized that she had spent her night flirting with a man who made his suit with red fabric because it was always covered in </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and there were several other people in the bar who could have attacked her at any given moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some small part of her, deep in her heart, knew that Wade wouldn’t have let anyone hurt her though. And that scared her too. So she didn’t think about it very much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her emotions from the night before had mellowed out, and as Peter laid there underneath the covers like she was a small child again, she couldn’t really feel any of the anxiety or depression that always connected her back to Gwen. She could never think of anything nice when she thought of Gwen. Peter wanted to think of her in ways that highlighted the great person that she was or the times that she was so beautiful, it hurt. But, her mind always dragged her back to that one night no matter how hard she tried to stay far from it.</span>
</p><p><span>There was still one thing she couldn’t shake from her mind, and for once, it had nothing to do with Wade. Peter was pretty sure she had witnessed an exchange between S.H.I.E.L.D.</span> <span>and HYDRA, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. There was </span><em><span>no</span></em><span> way she was going to any of the Avengers about it; as much as she trusted Nat and Clint, they were still S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and she wanted to stay as far away from the organization as possible. If she told Tony or Captain America or even Dr. Banner about it, they would all tell her that they would handle it and refuse to let her help, or they would just tell her nothing and take care of it themselves without telling anyone else. After all, Captain America didn’t have a great track record with telling people things when it came to HYDRA. </span></p><p>
  <span>Peter sighed and kicked her feet, dragging the covers off of her and onto the floor. She was just going to have to take care of this herself for the time being. That meant waiting and watching to see if anything else happened. She had no idea where HYDRA’s hideout was, so it wasn’t like she could just go spy on them. She would just have to extend the territories she covered during patrols. But that could wait until later in the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was nearing mid-day, and she still needed to get some chores done this weekend before she started on her homework and her actual work for triple J. She had been blowing off the articles she was supposed to write for a few days now, and her deadline was Sunday night, so she needed to finish them. She also had a pile of homework and studying that needed to be completed before Monday’s lectures, so there was that too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laundry was up first. The washer and dryer downstairs were very old but they were reliable, and they only cost a quarter each. So Peter threw on a pair of sweats and a sweater before dragging all of her laundry downstairs. She tried to do laundry every other week because of her busy schedule, and it didn’t take long to wash her clothes. She sat on top of the dryer and read through the assigned pages in her biochem book as she waited, and once everything was dry, she took it back upstairs. The elevator was her friend on laundry days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next on her to-do list was her articles for JJJ. Instead of opening her archaic laptop and just getting to work, Peter did everything else that she possibly could. She washed the tiny pile of dishes in the sink, she folded and put away her laundry, she even completed her lab worksheets for the next week. She was contemplating going down to the corner store to get her groceries for the next few weeks when her phone rang. Peter grabbed it off the kitchen counter, and she felt her heart pound faster when she read the caller id. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Incoming caller: MJ Watson. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Peter whispered, running a hand through her hair. She shuffled nervously for a moment before collapsing on her ancient couch. She swiped on the screen before she could think about anything else, and she brought the phone up to her ear.W </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” she asked, her voice breaking. She closed her eyes with a grimace and leaned her head on the back of the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heya, Tiger!” Mary Jane was excited as she answered Peter, and it brought a shaky smile to the superhero’s face. It had been an awfully long time since she had heard her friend’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MJ,” Peter breathed, settling into the couch more comfortably. Despite her nervousness, she felt herself slowly relaxing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’ve you been, Peter?” MJ asked; Peter could hear the smile in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been…it’s complicated,” she huffed out a laugh as she spoke. She could feel MJ’s sudden worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Complicated how?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Peter began, and she threaded her unoccupied hand through her hair. “I maybe sorta have feelings for a maybe sorta mercenary named Waaa, I mean, Deadpool, but I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT?” Peter cringed and pulled her phone away from her ear. MJ’s screech was so high-pitched that her ears were ringing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, look, in my defense, he started it!” Peter retaliated, her voice now as equally high-pitched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“PETER PARKER I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL HOP ON A PLANE RIGHT NOW TO COME BEAT YOUR ASS-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need to get violent, MJ!” Peter could barely breathe through her laughter. The line went silent for a second before MJ started laughing back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better have a good fucking explanation, Tiger. Jesus,” MJ finally said, a long sigh following her statement. Peter leaned her head back on the couch again and nodded before realizing that MJ couldn’t see her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well it all started at Starbucks a few weeks ago…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter and MJ’s conversation lasted for well over an hour. It was the longest that they had talked to each other in quite some time, and Peter felt so relieved as she ended the call. She had desperately missed her friendship with the redhead, but she was so bad with expressing her feelings that she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to fix things. It turned out that all that was needed for things to go back to normal was a long conversation on how Peter had gotten mixed up with a masked anti-hero. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighed and moved to her desk. After hearing about Peter’s latest escapades, MJ did not try to steer her away from </span>
  <span>Deadpool </span>
  <span>Wade. Instead, she had encouraged Peter to go “get that D.” That comment, in particular, had made Peter groan and threaten to stop talking. MJ had then steered the conversation to a related subject: Peter’s feelings toward Wade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was Peter didn’t actually know how she felt about him, so she had no idea what to tell her friend. After hearing Peter talk about her encounters with the mercenary, MJ had concluded that Peter liked Wade. Peter thought the word “like” was dumb because she wasn’t a 15-year-old in high school anymore; however, her feelings for Deadpool reminded her of when she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>in high school, so maybe it was the best word for the time being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t know why I find him so…charming, I guess, MJ,” Peter had groaned near the end of their conversation. “I know that he’s ‘dangerous’.” She had done air quotes but MJ couldn’t see that. “But he doesn’t seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>dangerous. Unless you take into account the murdering? But that’s the problem!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From what you’ve told me, he only seems to take jobs for people that kinda deserve it, Tiger,” MJ had offered. In her mind, Peter could see the knowing look that would be on the other girl’s face. “I know that you think all killing is bad, and look I’m not advocating for murder here, but sometimes, the world fails to punish the people who really deserve to be punished, y’know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after their conversation had ended, Peter still disagreed with MJ on that. Almost everything about Wade went against Peter’s moral code, something that she had been firm in since she was a little kid. She couldn’t just let him influence that, it would change everything about who she was! Probably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation had ended with a request from MJ. There were two parts to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise me two things, Peter,” she had said. Peter sighed with a small smile. She would always try to keep her promises to her, and MJ knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me hear them first, MJ.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alrighty, Tiger.” Peter groaned at the mischief in the other girl’s voice. “First, you have to go back to Sister Margaret’s. You owe it to yourself to figure out what’s going on between you and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Waaade.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Peter hated the way that MJ sang his name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Pete. You deserve to be happy, alright. I know life hasn’t been easy for you these past few years, and you deserve someone who’s gonna take care of you and love you like you deserve. So just try, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighed. “Okay, MJ.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sweetie,” MJ said warmly before moving on quickly to her next request. “Okay, and the last thing is that you have TO START ANSWERING ME. I love you, Tiger, and I don’t want to lose you. We’ve been through so much together, and I know that things didn’t work out between us, but you’re my closest friend. I can’t lose you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s eyes started prickling with tears. </span>
</p><p><span>“I’ll answer your texts, MJ,” Peter promised, her voice wavering for a second. “No matter how annoying they are.” </span><span><br/></span> <span>“Shut up,” MJ laughed into the phone. Peter giggled and wiped away the few stragglers that had fallen from her eyes. They said their goodbyes, and Peter then ended the call. </span></p><p>
  <span> Now, as Peter sat at her desk with her computer open, she felt motivated but not in the right way. She didn’t feel motivated to write her soon-to-be-due articles. Instead, she felt an itch beneath her skin to leap out the window and swing all the way to Sister Margaret’s. Peter groaned and let her head fall onto the desk. She wallowed for a few minutes before sitting up and opening a blank document on her computer. She would just write her articles and then go to Sister Margaret’s. At least, that’s what she told herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Peter had something to work towards, something to look forward to, her fingers frantically made their way across the keyboard, words flowing out of her. It wasn’t long before she had all three articles finished, complete with new pictures of Spider-Woman attached to each one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter checked the time on her phone as she made her way to her bedroom. It was early, just after 6:30, and she didn’t know if Deadpool would be at the bar yet. She thought for a moment before typing in a number and hitting the call button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter,” Nat’s voice greeted her warmly. Peter had decided to give Nat her real phone number after meeting up at Sister Margaret’s. She already knew Peter’s real identity, she might as well know her personal cell-phone number too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Nat,” Peter replied, flopping back on her bed. “I’ve got a dilemma.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, </span>
  <span>родная?” Peter chuckled at the endearment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t happen to have any idea if Deadpool is currently at Sister Margaret’s, would you?” Peter mumbled, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Nat laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t at the moment, but if you give me a second, I can find out,” Nat offered. “Don’t want to go all the way across town to figure out if he’s there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Peter confirmed, burying her face in her blanket. She knew that Nat </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t judging her, but she couldn’t help feeling insecure about this whole thing. The spy was silent for about thirty seconds before she started talking again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, he’s not there right this minute, he’s out on a job, but he’ll probably be at the bar before the hour’s up,” Nat said, and Peter could hear what sounded like computer keys clacking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Peter sighed as she spoke, blowing her fringe off her forehead. “Thanks, Nat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime,” Nat replied, and Peter started to pull her phone away from her ear. “Oh, and Peter? One more thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Nat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget to get his phone number this time.” Peter’s eyes widened in astonishment as the line went dead. She was stunned for a few seconds before she barked out a laugh. Nat never failed to surprise her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter took her time choosing her clothes this time. She knew that she was going to wear her coat again, and after some deliberating, she chose a grey t-shirt with a periodic table pun underneath a green flannel. She completed the outfit with a dark pair of jeans that she cuffed and her sneakers again. She grabbed her board and web-shooters and raced out of the apartment. She felt excited this time as she skated down the street; the nausea from the day before was replaced with butterflies swarming in her gut. The racing in her heart was back, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s spidey sense didn’t go off once during her entire trip to Sister Margaret’s, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching her as she skated down the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading Chapter Eight! I hope you all enjoyed it. If you would like to come scream at me about it on Tumblr, you can find me <a href="yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com">here</a>. Or you can talk to me in the comments here. I will be thrilled to talk with you! </p><p>As a reminder, my commissions are open on my Ko-Fi, you can find that here: ko-fi.com/mac0413. Buy me a coffee, and we can talk about it. We can also talk about it here or on Tumblr and arrange something else if you don't have a Ko-Fi or would prefer to use something else. </p><p>I'll see you guys soon with Chapter Nine!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Let's Get Married</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter reveals some information to Wade and unfortunately, Weasel.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, all! I hope you are all having a wonderful day. Chapter Nine is here, and the title for this chapter is Let's Get Married, inspired by the song Let's Get Married by Bleachers. </p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this fic on Spotify <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=4zzJJg-XRe2AlCEChUqNwQ">hereYouTube</a>. As a reminder, the playlist will play out of order on Spotify unless you have Spotify Premium. It doesn't have to be listened to in order, but each chapter and the song itself corresponds to a chapter. The playlist is updated through Chapter Eleven. You guys who listen to the playlist will have a small sneak peek at the next two chapters through those songs! </p><p>I enjoyed writing this chapter more than I did the previous one, so I think my slump is gone. This chapter is not as long as I would have liked it to be, but that's okay. </p><p>I am trying to get to the Halloween chapter, Chapter Fourteen, by Halloween, but I don't think that's going to work out very well. I'll try to get it out as soon as possible, and I think with the pace I have going currently, Chapter Fourteen, should be out sometime early next week at the latest. I did want that chapter to be out on Halloween because it does contain Halloween content, but, I can live with it being published a few days after. </p><p>As always, happy reading, and let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The feeling of someone watching her stopped when Peter reached the halfway point between her apartment and Sister Margaret’s. She didn’t feel like she was in danger, and her spidey-sense hadn’t warned her of anything, but the back of her neck was still incredibly warm. </p><p>When Peter walked into Sister Margaret’s, she was alone. </p><p>Nat was right, of course; Deadpool was already seated at the bar when Peter walked in. She knew what to expect this time as far as her senses were concerned, so she was prepared for the intense wave of danger to wash over her. Her neck still prickled from her spidey-sense, and she still felt the urge to cough from the sudden surge of smoke in her lung, but her headache was much less intense than it had been yesterday. </p><p>“Baby girl! Bunny, bun-bun, Bambi!” Wade shouted approximately five seconds after Peter walked in the door. The bar’s volume immediately lowered 50 decibels, and Peter’s cheeks burned as she made her way to the bar. </p><p>"<em>Pasha</em>,” Wade drawled much quieter, his tone teasing. It seemed that he still hadn’t bought her fake name yet. Though she was embarrassed, she was still more confident than she had been the day before, so Peter plopped down on the barstool next to him. </p><p>“Wade,” Peter greeted back, tilting her head in his direction. She refused to acknowledge the pet-names, though she was sure that her red cheeks were confirmation enough. </p><p>“Kid,” Weasel muttered from the bar, setting down a glass in front of her. It was full of a clear liquid, and when Peter sniffed it, she immediately recognized it as a Vodka-Sprite. One of the upsides of her so-sensitive spidery-nose was that no one could put something in her drink without her knowing it. Yay for her. </p><p>“Weasel,” Peter said, her tone not-quite flat, unlike her drink. Out of the corner of her eye, Wade was flailing his arms a bit, and she sighed, trying to seem bored as she turned to look at him. By the smirk on his mask, she knew that she had failed, miserably. </p><p>“Damn, Baby Girl, are you alright?” Wade asked. The smirk was gone from his mask; in its place was a deep frown. Peter tilted her head in confusion. </p><p>“You look utterly exhausted, Sweetheart; you up all night thinking about me?” Wade asked, and though his words were teasing, Peter could hear the legitimate worry in his voice. </p><p>“No, I’m fine, slept fine enough,” she responded, eagerly sipping at her drink as a distraction and way out of the conversation. Hearing Wade’s concern had turned the butterflies in her gut into a swarm of crows. </p><p>“Hmm,” Wade hummed, clearly not believing her. She narrowed her eyes at him and resisted the urge to kick him. </p><p>“If you’re looking for your Auntie, Kid, she’s not here,” Weasel said unhelpfully from behind the counter. Peter rolled her eyes and finished her drink. </p><p>“Unless, of course, you’re not here for your Auntie,” he continued, a smirk on his face. He pushed up his sleeves and leaned his elbows on the bar. Gross. “In that case, <em> who </em>are you here for?” </p><p>“Back off,” Wade growled, slamming his hand down on the bar. Weasel recoiled with a glare and stalked off to the computer attached to the cash register. It wasn’t long before he was typing up a storm. </p><p>“You need to catch some serious z’s, Baby Girl,” Wade sing-songed as he turned back to Peter. Her cheeks burned again at the pet-name; they were never going to go back to their usual color, were they?</p><p>“I’m fine,” Peter snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. Wade raised an eyebrow - the mask thing was still infuriating! - and pursed his lips. </p><p>“What’s with all of the names, anyway?” Peter asked, sucking on an ice cube from her drink. Wade’s expression turned lecherous. “I already told you my name is Pasha, not Bambi, not Baby Girl.”</p><p>“And we both know that Pasha isn’t your name,” Wade chuckled, his voice deeper and darker now. Liquid heat flowed through Peter. “Until you give it up, you’re just gonna have to deal with the names.” </p><p>“Fucking bite me,” Peter spat out, and her eyes widened as she realized what she had just said. Wade’s eyes also widened before narrowing in what looked like satisfaction. </p><p>“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he purred, pulling her stool closer to him with his foot. Peter was getting deja vu from the night before. </p><p>“I told you to stop eye fucking in my bar!” Weasel yelled as he snapped a towel down on the bar. Peter made herself flinch, she knew that it was coming thanks to her spidey-sense, but she didn’t want either man to know that. Wade, however, did not even so much as budge. Instead, he seemed to be getting closer and closer to her. Peter turned her attention to the bar; it was getting harder to look away from the somehow deep eye contact that his mask maintained. As she looked away, she glanced at Weasel’s face, and she schooled her features, so they didn’t show a glimpse of regret. He still looked pissed off. </p><p>Peter’s attention was brought back to Wade when she felt something warm brush against her fingers. It was Wade’s hand, covered in soft, warm leather. God, would he ever give her just a minute between blushes?</p><p>“You’re something else, Baby Girl,” Wade murmured, his voice soft and sweet. Peter looked up at his face, and she swore that she was making direct eye contact with him. Before she could say anything in return, a loud chirping noise startled her. Wade cursed loudly and dug around in one of his many pouches with his free hand. The other one was still on the bar, fingertips casually brushing against Peter’s. Her heart was pounding so fast, it was a miracle she wasn’t dead. </p><p>“Yello?” Wade asked, flat and bored, as he looked at Peter. He muttered something else into the phone, but Peter wasn’t able to pay attention to anything he was saying when he was looking at her that way. He could have been telling her that he was planning a mass murder for the entire planet, and she would not have even blinked twice. </p><p>“This better be a good one, fucker,” Wade growled, and <em> that </em>made Peter pay attention. She shivered, and Wade grinned as his eyes swept up and down her figure. She could feel the heat from his eyesight as she grabbed her now full drink from the bar. She gulped down half of it before stopping to take a breath. </p><p>“In my account, half-an-hour,” Wade threatened, a silent <em> or else </em>hanging in the air after he finished speaking. He laughed, his voice deep and dark and carnal, before hanging up the phone and turning to Peter. </p><p>“I’ve got to leave, Baby Girl,” he said mournfully, and Peter’s gut wrenched at the pure regret in his tone. </p><p>Peter stared at Wade before pushing her shoulders back as he stood. She dug around in her pockets before coming up with a pen, and she snapped her fingers at Weasel, muttering for him to give her something to write on. Surprisingly, he cooperated, and Peter quickly wrote out the number for her burner phone on the scrap piece of receipt paper. She held it out to Wade. </p><p>“Call me, so I don’t have to come back here tomorrow,” she ordered, raising an eyebrow at him. Wade paused for a second before throwing his head back, his chest shaking with soul-deep laughter. Peter blinked, and she barely managed to withhold her own laughter. On an unrelated note, had she really just snapped at Weasel, and it had <em> worked </em>? Jesus. </p><p>Wade straightened and gingerly took the piece of paper from Peter. Their hands touched for a second longer than necessary, and Peter felt her insides melt. God, she really did sound like a high-schooler. </p><p>Wade took out his phone right there, and he muttered the numbers to himself as he entered them in his phone. Fortunately, he only said them loud enough for Weasel to hear, and the bartender didn’t look surprised at all by the number. He had probably found it out last night on his computer. Bastard. </p><p>“Always a pleasure, <em> Pasha, </em>” Wade smirked, picking up Peter’s hand from the bar and kissing it farewell. Peter made a small, defensible noise, but she didn’t do anything to stop him. She wanted to brush her fingers over his cheek, but he was already gone by the time she had blinked the daze from her mind. </p><p>“Peter,” she hastily said before she lost her nerve, her fingers playing with one another in her lap. She heard Weasel choke behind her before he walked away toward his computer. She inaudibly groaned, knowing he was already scouring the internet for clues of her true identity. Wade, on the other hand, looked incredibly shocked and was very still as the name left her lips.</p><p>“Come again?” he asked. The tips of Peter’s lips quirked up; there was a joke in there somewhere. </p><p>“It’s Peter, not Pasha,” she said again, running one of her hands through her hair. Wade’s eyes tracked the movement before meeting her gaze again. </p><p>“Peter,” he whispered, a hint of pure joy infiltrating his voice before his posture became more confident. He leaned in close to her, and Peter was so shocked that she couldn’t have moved if she wanted. Their noses brushed, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her over the mask. Would it taste like leather or like something else entirely? <em> Maybe blood </em>, a dark voice, somewhere in the back of her mind whispered. </p><p>“I knew that you were a bunny, little Peter Cottontail.” Wade’s voice was so deep, it was hard to describe it as a <em> growl </em>, yet that was the closest word for what it was. Peter’s skin was on fire. Unconsciously, she drifted closer to him. </p><p>“Make sure you get all of those z’s your perfect ass missed out on last night!” Wade announced cheerfully as he stood up fully, backing away from her. Peter let loose a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Immediately, she missed the warmth he had provided. </p><p>“I’ll see you later, Baby Girl!” Wade waved as he walked to the exit of the bar. Peter swallowed and called back. </p><p>“Yeah, in your dreams!” </p><p>“No, in yours!” he replied, flashing a huge grin before leaving the bar. As soon as the door was closed, Peter slouched back in her seat, scrubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. Her face was still on fire. </p><p>“I’ll let the snapping go this time, Kid,” Weasel startled her as he spoke. Peter looked at him and drained the rest of her glass before standing up. As she grabbed her bag and board from the ground, she thought about how Wade hadn’t made a single comment about her skate-board. Maybe he was saving his, “He was a skater boy, she said ‘see ya later, boy,’” comments for another day. Whatever. Peter rummaged around in her pockets for a minute before fishing out a few bills. She tried to hand them to Weasel, but he waved her off. </p><p>“Your boyfriend insisted that you go straight to his tab,” he said bitterly, rolling his eyes. “Just leave it, Kid. And enough with the eye fucking!” </p><p>Peter was still laughing as she left the bar. </p><p> </p><p>Peter went straight home from Sister Margaret’s to put on her spidey uniform. She only stayed in her apartment long enough to put on her suit and dump her stuff before she was swinging out her window and across the street to patrol. She kept her scans wide, as she was really only looking for any S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA agents. Unfortunately, she didn’t spot any weird activity or people from either group. Her patrol was mostly uneventful overall, and she slid in her window four hours later with nothing weird to report. Dead on her feet, she stripped off her clothes and tossed her burner phone on her bedside table. She faintly heard her phone buzz, but her mind was already miles away in the land of sleep, so she just snuggled into her covers and closed her eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wade finally knows Peter's name and her phone number! I am so ready for the text conversations between the two of them, let me tell you! Also, who do you think was following Peter? Let me know what you think down in the comments!  </p><p>Thank you to everyone who has been leaving me kudos, bookmarking and commenting on this fic. It truly means the world to me, and I am so happy to reply to any comments that you guys have!</p><p>You can come scream at me on <a href="https://yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>. You can also find me on ko-fi here: ko-fi.com/mac0413. I am taking commissions, so if that is something you're interested in, hit me up or buy me a coffee, and let's talk about it! I am very similar to our broke, college student, Peter, so everything helps immensely. </p><p>Have a great day everyone, and I'll see you all in the next one!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. This Side of Paradise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter receives her first text from Wade, and Spider-Woman and Deadpool work together to stop a group of bullies.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I'm so sorry that it's been so long since my last update! The plan was to have my Halloween chapter posted on the actual holiday, but that didn't happen at all. I'm behind in my posting, and I apologize for that. I'm hoping to have this fic completed by the end of the year, but if it isn't, the plan is for it to be finished by February of 2021 at the latest. I have several other works planned, including a potential sequel for this fic, and I would like to start working on those stories with this one completed. Unfortunately, life did not get the memo, so my plans are all out of whack. </p><p>I have brought you today Chapter Ten: This Side of Paradise. This chapter is inspired by the song This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory. As always, you can find the playlist on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p">YouTube</a> and <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=OgkNJDuAS9Kq5LEE6zu_8Q">Spotify</a>. YouTube will play in order, but Spotify will not unless you have Spotify Premium. Of course, it is not necessary to listen to the playlist in order but each chapter corresponds to one specific song, as does the story as a whole. The song for the entire fic is She Looks So Perfect by Five Seconds of Summer. </p><p>With that being said, please enjoy Chapter Ten!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It didn’t take Peter long to wake up Sunday afternoon. She’d gotten plenty of sleep the night before, and for the first time in a long time, she felt rested when she opened her eyes. She still wasn’t ready to leave the warmth of her bed though, so she just grabbed her phone off the nightstand and huddled up beneath the blankets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she opened up her phone to respond to one of MJ’s texts, she vaguely remembered her burner phone going off as she climbed into bed last night. She stuck her arm out of her blankets and blindly reached around for her other phone. After searching for a few seconds, she found it and dragged that beneath her blankets as well. She felt very content as she opened up her burner phone, flipping through it to get to her messages. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>content, and yet, she felt like something was missing. Not something, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Someone that was tall and huge and usually dressed in a black and red suit and who Peter just knew would fit cuddled up against her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Peter was alone in her bed, and that was very unlikely to change in the near future. So to distract herself from the slow creeping of loneliness, she pulled up her messages on her phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She expected the text she had gotten the night before to be from Natasha. She had talked with her yesterday, after all, and it was possible that the spy wanted an update on Peter’s situation with Wade. But, it wasn’t from Natasha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was from Wade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peter whispered, wiping the last dregs of sleep from her eyes. Her heart started to race, and she wished that her eyesight would stop being so blurry. It had been years since she had last needed glasses, thanks to the spider that so kindly bit her, but that never stopped the blurriness that came from sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t get her heart to stop beating so fast, and the anxiety in her veins that accompanied her rapid heart rate was almost like a distant, familiar friend. She didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>like she was having a panic attack; she could still breathe normally, and her senses weren’t acting up. Maybe it was a stroke? Was she having a stroke? Surely, she was too young to have a stroke, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm the fuck down,” Peter hissed at herself, blinking rapidly as her sight finally adjusted. Fuck, fuck, okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter clicked on the new text, and the anxiety stopped just as quickly as it had started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered in disbelief, her eyes scanning over the message again.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>this is ur daily msg from ur friendly neighborhood deadpool, here 2 tell u 2 get ur perfect ass in bed! reminder: it is recommended that cute lil bun-buns (like urself) get 7-9 hours of sleep. :) </b>
</p><p><span>Peter didn’t know what she was expecting from Wade’s text, but </span><em><span>that </span></em><span>certainly wasn’t it. Before she could stop herself, her fingers were flying across the keyboard, her thumb tapping “send”</span> <span>within a matter of seconds. Realizing what she had done, Peter blinked, groaned, and flopped back on her back. She really wished that life had an undo button. </span></p><p>
  <b>
    <em>And this is your daily reminder from your friendly neighborhood Peter, here to tell you that I can function plenty on limited sleep. It is recommended that friendly neighborhood Wade’s (like yourself) go to sleep instead of bothering friendly neighborhood Peter’s. </em>
  </b>
</p><p><span>She had never been good</span> <span>at texting or flirting, but as she reread her message for the third time, she wondered when she had gotten so </span><em><span>bad </span></em><span>at it. Peter shrieked as her burner phone buzzed in her hands. She dropped it in her pile of covers, and she spent a good fifteen seconds trying to fish it from the depths of her blankets. Prize in hand, Peter leaned against the headboard, swiping to open Wade’s newest message. </span></p><p>
  <b>some1 is grumpy, did u not listen to ur friendly neighborhood dp and get enough sleep????</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter just rolled her eyes and fired back with two words. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Bite. Me. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to Peter’s surprise - because for some reason, she was still surprised every time Wade so much as looked at her in a flirty way, let alone all of the shit that he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>- Wade’s reaction was just risque as it had been the night before when Peter had said those exact same words. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>i’d be careful if i were u lil girl </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I’m not scared of you. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>no, ur not. but u might be scared of what i’ll do to u. isn’t that right, peter? </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s world was on fire. Wade’s texting shorthand had not done anything to take away from the heat of his words. A deep growl rang in her ears as she remembered how Wade had sounded yesterday when she had told him her real name. Arousal settled low in her gut, slowly warming her from the inside out. She shifted her legs on the bed, a nearly-silent whine escaping her throat as the seam of her shorts rubbed against her core. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>all jokes aside bambie u should sleep more. sleep = good 4 u. </b>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, the heat was gone from their conversation. Wade was giving Peter whiplash; one minute he was joking, the next he was turning her on like there was no tomorrow, and then he was back to joking around again. She couldn’t figure him out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued their friendly banter for a few more minutes before getting up and moving around her bedroom. She had finished all of her assignments the day before, but she needed to study for tests that were coming up in nearly all of her classes. Not to mention that she wanted to go patrolling again tonight; she had liked her longer patrol yesterday, and she was eager to do it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter kept her conversation with Wade steady throughout the rest of the day. She managed to resist the urge to immediately text him back every time her phone vibrated, but only barely. She had to give herself scheduled breaks in her studying to check her phone and respond accordingly. When late afternoon came, she switched gears from studying to trying to research more into HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D., but she was so distracted by Wade that she didn’t get any productive work done. She did get to see some pretty cute dogs just chilling in Central Park, though, so she didn’t think it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge </span>
  </em>
  <span>waste of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point in the day, Wade’s comments turned more sentimental, immediately drawing Peter’s interest and suspicion. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>u seem so lonely. r u lonely?????</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>What? </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>if ur lonely, cum b lonely w/me ;) </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>a romantic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, 8:00 PM rolled around, and Peter reluctantly put her phone away in favor of pulling on her suit. She tucked her phone into the pocket she’d once designed for that exact purpose, and then she was climbing out of her window and into the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s phone buzzed in her pocket as she swung across town, but she ignored it, relishing the feeling of the cold New York air against her skin. She had switched out her usual suit a few days ago for the insulated one that she only wore during the winter. It trapped her body heat inside of it, ensuring she didn’t freeze during New York’s brutal winters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter swung closer to the ground, throwing webs at streetlamps so she didn’t end up splattered in a puddle of Peter. She hadn’t been out long, but already, her spidey-senses were alerting her of some sort of danger in the nearby vicinity. The prickling on the back of her neck became more intense as she rounded the corner, and she landed on the side of a building before crawling into an alleyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the alley were three big, buff dudes surrounding a very small, lanky boy. He couldn’t have been older than 13, and the other guys were clearly in their early 20’s. The boy was shaking, and Peter could see the rips in his clothing. She glared at the sight; if there was something that she never tolerated, it was bullies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I told you! I can get it next week!” the boy protested, holding his hands up in front of his face. One of the goons grabbed onto his wrists and yanked them down; it was clearly painful judging by the boy’s shriek. Peter tensed her muscles, ready to jump into the middle of whatever was going on, but a voice coming from the mouth of the alley startled her. The fuck? </span>
</p><p><span>“Now, now, now, what do we have going on here? Some sort of tussle?” the newcomer drawled. Peter stifled her groan, as she realized without looking that it was Wade. She should have known that it was him from the fact that he had - once again</span> <span>- foiled her spidey-sense. And the fact that he said the word “tussle.” Nobody said tussle anymore. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” one of the goons, the one holding onto the boy’s wrists, called before turning back to the boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No can do, Sweetheart,” Wade crooned, walking closer. Peter bristled at Wade’s use of the pet-name, though she had no reason to. As Wade walked by her, he swung something between his palms, and Peter recognized it as a metal bat. His katanas were still strapped to his back, and all of his guns seemed to be in place. Strange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, three against one is not fair at all,” Wade continued, shaking his head as he stopped just a few feet away from the group. A grin stretched over his mask. “It makes me think that you guys are bullying this poor little guy here, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking hate bullies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do I,” Peter announced, her voice coming out more higher-pitched than normal as she dropped to the ground. Wade didn’t turn around, but she heard a small squeal coming from his direction. She blushed and smirked to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crush the bug, I’ll take care of this fucker,” Head-Goon ordered, shoving the boy harshly. He hit the wall and fell with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crunch</span>
  </em>
  <span> that made Peter see red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an arachnid,” she snarled before kicking him in the face. Deadpool whooped, and as she spun to grab one of the other goons, she saw him swing his bat at the third goon. It connected with a sound that Peter didn’t even know how to describe, and the other man collapsed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No killing!” Peter hastily objected, growling under her breath and rolling her eyes as Wade let out a high-pitched whine. She was so distracted by Wade that her next punch was grabbed out of the air by the goon she was currently fighting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now where are your manners?” she snarked, dropping to the ground and sweeping her leg out in a move that Nat had shown her a few months ago. She knocked his legs out from underneath him. “You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter webbed him up against the wall with the first goon, and she turned to make sure that Wade had the last one under control. She was breathless as she watched him pin the bully to the wall, growling harsh and vulgar insults in his ear as the other man cried out in pain. The warmth from earlier had returned to Peter’s gut, and she quickly looked away, her eyes searching for the kid from earlier as she desperately tried to think about anything but Wade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter slowly walked over to the still shaking boy, hands held up in front of her so that he knew that he was in no danger. The last thing that she wanted was for him to bolt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” she asked, her eyes scanning over the red, angry handprints on his skin. She winced; they were going to leave bruises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, m’fine,” the boy said, looking at something behind her with apprehension. She heard a thud coming from that direction, and she knew that Wade had finally ended his little battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have somewhere to go, kid? Somewhere we could walk you to?” Peter asked gently, keeping her distance from him. She didn’t want to seem threatening and in his personal space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just on my way home,” the kid replied, his voice hardening as he talked. “I can get there just fine on my own.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While we don’t doubt that, Spidey here does have a duty to personally make sure that everyone gets home safe and sound,” Wade chimed in, suddenly right next to Peter. Though they weren’t touching, she could feel the heat that his body was giving off. It was nice, and Peter had to fight every instinct in her body to remain standing up straight and not curl into his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What he said,” Peter finally managed to say, wincing when her voice cracked. A smirk appeared on Wade’s mask, and she just knew that he was preening beneath it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Peter a few seconds to shake herself from her embarrassment, and when she rejoined reality, she noticed that the boy and Wade appeared to be locked in a staring contest. Wade’s mask should not have been able to blink, but it did, and he immediately started pouting while simultaneously yelling that it wasn’t fair or cool to be beaten by a teenager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deadpool, cut it out!” Peter snapped, and immediately, Wade straightened. Peter raised an eyebrow in surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, let’s get you home, kid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The kid’s apartment turned out to only be a few blocks away, but Wade made the five-minute trip seem like an eternity. Peter called the cops while they walked, though neither the kid nor Wade seemed to notice. Wade never shut up, once. He talked endlessly about tv shows and shit he’d seen online, and at one point, the kid made a comment in regards to a cooking show that Wade was rambling on about, and Wade took it and ran with it. He talked about cooking shows that didn’t even sound </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Peter mostly just tried to shut both of them out, and she was very grateful when they reached the kid’s apartment. After he went inside and she heard him open his apartment door, Peter turned to scale the building. Before she could leave, Wade’s hand clamped down on her forearm, large and warm - there was a dick joke in there somewhere - and unyielding. Peter managed to hold in the “Yeep!” noise building in her throat, but it took a lot of effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Spidey! Thanks for helping me out tonight! That was fun, we should do it again!” Wade exclaimed, letting go of her arm once he had her attention. She swiveled in place and stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised an eyebrow under her mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One, you helped </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>out, I was already there when you showed up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>I had everything under control,” Peter said, her voice somehow steady as she kept up her false bravado. “Two, absolutely under </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>circumstances are we going to do this again. I work alone, and I don’t need distractions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, c’mon!” Wade pouted, his stance matching hers as he crossed his arms over his chest. Even stomping his feet and slouching a good foot, he was still more intimidating than Peter. It was just offensive.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can help, I promise!” The eyes on Wade’s mask got much larger as he continued to beg. Peter’s resolve was cracking fast. “I’ll be a good little Dobby, no killing, only maiming or a little bit of serious injury!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter shook her head and spun around. Before Wade could grab onto her again, she shot a web at the building to her left and pulled herself onto the side of it. She scaled the building in a matter of seconds, and when she looked back down, Wade was no longer pouting. Instead, his head was tilted to the side as he looked up at her in what she thought was awe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dat ass just keeps getting better, Spidey!” Wade called up, cupping his hands in front of his mouth even though he clearly didn’t need to. Christ, she wasn’t even that far up, just a few stories. It was like he lived to embarrass her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me!” Wade shouted as Peter took a running start and jumped off the building. She sighed as she swung away, though a smile had already begun to worm its way onto her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Peter spent the next few hours patrolling on the other side of town, trying to stay clear of Wade. She was distracted the entire time, especially when her burner phone buzzed again. She called it quits just after 1, and she would never admit to the fact that she swung home twice as fast as usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she climbed in her window, the first thing she did was yank off her mask and collapse on her bed. She whipped out her burner phone, her thumbs gliding across the screen as she unlocked it. The first message from Wade was a picture of a dachshund in Central Park. It was followed up by a picture of another dachshund, though this time, the dog was in a hot dog costume. It was the greatest thing ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a string of actual texts after the two pictures. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>u no like weenie dogs???? tht is a war crime, bby-girl</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>or mayb u fell asleep like a good bun-bun???</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>tis late after all </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>k i’ll see u in ur dreams then bambi</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>sweet dreams sweetheart. catch those z’s 4 me </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter rolled her eyes as she reread through the messages again. The pet names sent warmth through her chest, and her nerves felt jittery, like she was on some sort of sugar high. She closed her phone without responding to Wade, knowing that the man was probably still awake, and if she texted him, he’d only reprimand her for not sleeping. The thought of Wade scolding her wasn’t as disenchanting as it should have been. Her fingers itched to send a taunting message to Wade, just to see what, exactly, he would do to her. Hastily, Peter tossed her phone onto the other side of the bed so she couldn't do anything rash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter stripped off her suit with a groan. She shut her window before moving to the bathroom. It seemed that a cold shower was in order. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please consider bookmarking this fic, leaving a kudos, or commenting down below! All of the interaction makes my day, and I enjoy responding to each and every comment. You can also head over to my <a href="https://yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> and comment over there or message me! I would be thrilled to talk to you all! I also have a Ko-Fi, and you can find that at ko-fi.com/mac0413. I am currently taking commissions to help pay for grad school!</p><p>I hope you all have a lovely day, and I will see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Sweet Caroline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter asks Wade a question.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful day. I am back with Chapter Eleven: Sweet Caroline. This chapter title is based on the song Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond. </p><p>As always, there is a playlist for this fic, and you can find it on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p">YouTube</a> and <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=DP8zCk9tSFuW0r_nNGnsrQ">Spotify</a>. Spotify won’t play in order unless you have Spotify Premium. You don’t need to listen to it in order, but each chapter has a specific song associated with it. There is also a song associated with the entire fic, which is She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer.</p><p>If you liked this chapter, please leave a kudos, comment, or consider bookmarking this fic! Your interactions make my day, and I will gladly respond to you guys. You can also head over to my <a href="yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a> and comment and message me there, and I will respond to you! </p><p>I hope you all enjoy Chapter Eleven!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next day was Monday, and no amount of wishing would stop the sun from coming up, so Peter rolled out of bed at precisely 6:06 AM and started getting ready for work. There was a message on her burner phone from Wade sent only a few minutes ago, and Peter opened it as she brushed her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>looks like u got some competition, petey-pie, </b>
  <span>the message read, accompanied by a picture of a golden retriever with a pair of bunny ears on. Peter sighed hard through her nose and rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Haha, very funny. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter ended her message with a period to emphasize the passive-aggressiveness of her statement. Wade just sent an angel emoticon in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter forced herself to put her phone away as she continued to get ready for the day. She needed to spend today being productive, and that wasn’t going to happen if she spent the whole day texting Wade. Any and all </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoughts </span>
  </em>
  <span>about Wade were distracting, let alone texts from the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter made it to work on time at 7:00 AM sharp, and she even managed to avoid running into Triple J. Peter slid into the chair at her desk, and she barely stifled the groan building in her throat. There was a new assignment on her desk, one that was due tomorrow, and she needed new pictures of Spider-Woman to go along with it. Luckily, she took a few pictures last night after her run-in with Wade, so the pictures wouldn’t be a problem. The issue came from having to write a new article - already something that was not her in her area of expertise, and that she usually only did occasionally for extra money - that was due so soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter sighed, and after replying a quick </span>
  <b>
    <em>Cute </em>
  </b>
  <span>to Wade’s text of a pit bull in a tutu, she threw her burner phone in her desk drawer and shut it. It was time to get to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter spent most of the morning and part of her lunch break drafting her article. It wasn’t her best work, to say the least, but it also wasn’t the worst thing that she’s ever written. During her lunch break, she allowed herself ten minutes to talk to Wade. Luckily for her, Wade didn’t waste time texting back. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>hey hey petey-pie, bambi, lil bun bun</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>What, Wade? </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>r u sure ur a petey-pie and not a corn tortilla filled w/meat bcuz u r 1 hot tamale ;)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>There’s a dick joke in there somewhere. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>b still my beating &lt;3 marry me petey-pie pllllllllls </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>In your dreams, Wade. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>no in urs</b>
</p><p>
  <span>And even though they’ve already done the “In your dreams,” “No, in yours,” thing before, it still made Peter’s heart flutter. Well, her heart would have been fluttering if it wasn’t already racing from Wade’s - hopefully - joke of a marriage proposal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter submitted her article a few minutes before 2 PM, and she prided herself on a successful day of work as she skated down the street towards campus. Her class didn’t start until 3:15, but she wanted to relax in the library for a bit before class and talk to Wade. About halfway through her commute, Peter was busy thinking about what snippy response she was going to fire at Wade next time when her burner phone started buzzing in her back pocket. It repeatedly vibrated for about thirty seconds, indicating that either someone called her or someone texted her so that her notifications lined up in a specific rhythm. Somehow, she didn’t think the second scenario was the more likely of the two, so Peter skated faster, eager to see who called her on her Spidey phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small part of her wondered if it was Wade. There had been a bit of time between his last responses, so maybe he had fallen asleep and called her on accident. Would his voice be even rougher than usual from sleep, or perhaps he was out on a job somewhere and called to just check in with her? She longed to hear his voice, and she fought the urge to duck into an alley, pull on her Spidey suit, and swing around New York until she found him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Peter found a seat inside the library. She was up on the fourth floor again in some corner that had just recently been vacated. No one else was around, and Peter pulled her phone out, heart racing for a minute before she saw </span>
  <b>
    <em>1 Missed Call - Nat </em>
  </b>
  <span>on the screen. Instantly, Peter was both relieved and disappointed, but she was also curious about why Nat called her. Naturally, Peter did the expected and called the spy back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for you, </span>
  <span>родная?” Nat’s voice was warm and friendly as she answered the phone. Peter shook her head in exasperation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You called me first, Nat,” Peter reminded her, settling back into her chair. She didn’t have long before her class started, only about forty-five minutes, but she was going to make herself comfortable in the meantime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t say,” Nat’s reply was full of sarcasm, and Peter chuckled, curling her legs beneath her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you want, Nat?” Peter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing major. I just wanted to see if you’d managed to get a dick appointment yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nat’s words sent her into a sudden choking fit that halted the screen that tried to leave her throat. Nat’s laughter echoed through the phone, but Peter couldn’t hear her over the pounding in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not allowed to just say things like that!” Peter cried, realizing too late that her volume was entirely too loud for the library. Thankfully, she was sitting in the very back of this floor, and the librarian was three floors down. Nat was still laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, c’mon, Peter! Lighten up!” Peter squawked in indignation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, I, I’m not trying to get a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dick </span>
  </em>
  <span>appointment! And second-” Peter’s defense was cut off by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent scoffing in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be honest here, Peter. We both know your intentions are nowhere close to innocent,” Nat said, her tone more gentle when she finished her sentence. Peter sighed and tangled her fingers in her short hair, wincing as she accidentally pulled on the roots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard or what Clint’s been telling you, but I’m not trying to hook up with Wade.” Peter rushed to get the words out as quickly as possible while also trying to keep quiet. Nat was silent for a few seconds, and she thought she’d gotten away with calling Wade by name when the other woman spoke again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Wade, now, is it?” Nat’s voice was suspiciously quiet, and Peter refrained from responding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter, I am not judging you for anything. Just be safe with what information you give out, okay?” Nat said, her voice thick with a layer of concern that Peter has never heard. She knew that Nat cared, but she didn’t know how much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyways, enough with that shit,” she continued, and Peter let out a small laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you have a class to get to soon, so let me just cut to the chase.” Peter’s eyes widened in bewilderment before she just sighed. It was foolish of her to think that Nat </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have her college schedule (and her work schedule at that) memorized. The woman was a trained spy, and she probably had eyes on everyone she’d ever interacted with, let alone someone that she had a relationship with, like Peter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Nat?” Peter asked softly, her foot tapping anxiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask him out, Peter,” Nat said, her tone encouraging but firm. Peter almost choked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, Nat, no, it’s not like that, why would you even, what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just listen to me and ask him out. Ask him to dinner or to play basketball or whatever the hell you do in your spare time. Just trust me,” she continued, talking over Peter’s protests. Peter tried to speak again, but she couldn’t get the words out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta go, okay? Think about what I said.” The line went quiet after that, and Peter pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it in silence. She couldn’t even believe Nat. Asking Wade out was an absurd idea bound to end in catastrophe. Right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then what if it wasn’t a terrible idea. Wade had already made it known that he was at least attracted to her, and she was definitely attracted to him. Not to mention that he was incredibly funny, something she would never admit to him. Then there was the idea of them sitting down and getting street tacos somewhere, her in her best jeans, a nicer blouse, and Wade in full leather regalia. Or maybe he wouldn’t wear his Deadpool costume. He seemed the type to show up to a first date in a three-piece suit, and she bet that those muscled thighs would look </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouthwatering </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a pair of fitted slacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could think twice about what she was doing, Peter had her conversation with Wade pulled up on her phone, her thumbs moving quickly across the screen as she typed out a message. Then, she hit send. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>What do you say to getting dinner with me tonight? We could get tacos or something. </em>
  </b>
  <span>She really sucked at this whole flirting thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Face to face with her looming anxiety, Peter hurriedly put her phone on silent and stuffed it into her back pocket. She did not want to see Wade’s response, and she felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. To distract herself, she checked the time on the clock on the wall to her right. Her eyes widened as she saw that it was almost 3. She still had to make it across campus to class, so she threw her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her skateboard, racing to the elevators. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made it to class with a minute to spare and threw herself down in her usual seat, quickly pulling out her ancient laptop to take notes. Her mind was whirling, going through every possible response that Wade could have sent, but she forced herself to hyperfocus on what her professor was saying instead. That calmed her down a little, and she was able to pay attention to that day’s lecture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter didn’t know how much time passed between when she sat down and the end of class. She hadn’t been paying attention to anything but what she had been typing, her mind too out of focus to do anything else. She spent class in a weird headspace that she has only fallen into before when her anxiety is working overtime. She’s so far gone that she almost didn’t notice when her professor dismissed the class. The only reason she looked around and saw that the room was empty was that the projector went black. She packed up her bag in a daze, and she left the room, eyes darting around for a place where she could check her phone in peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found a corner three hallways away. It was close to one of the back stairwells, but no one ever used these stairs, especially not at 4:30 in the afternoon. Peter settled on the floor before pulling out her phone, her fingers shaking. There was a string of messages from Wade waiting for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>u wnt 2 get dinner w/me????????</b>
</p><p>
  <b>holy shit am i dreaming?????</b>
</p><p>
  <b> ur srs???? </b>
</p><p>
  <b>i mean yeh i’d luv 2 get dinner w/u bambi. but be real u dnt wnt t 2 go out w/me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>im nt gud 4 u peter. u dnt wnt this, trust me</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter frowned at the last message, and she quickly typed back a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I think I get to decide who is and isn’t good for me, and if I want to get dinner with you, then I’m going to get dinner with you. As long as you agree, that is. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Wade’s next message was almost instantaneous. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>ur positive?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>One hundred percent. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>thn yes i agree </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>How does 8 sound? </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>perfect. i no jst the place. meet me @ sissy maggie’s. no takebacksies!!!!!!!!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>I would never. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter could feel her relief in her throat. However, her happy mood was cut short when she briefly thought about the clean clothes in her closet. At the thought of the large pile of laundry that still needed washing, Peter’s eyes widened. Holy fuck, what was she going to wear? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thirty minutes and a brief stop in an alleyway to secure her belongings later, Peter is swinging from building to building, trying to look for trouble while at the same time not throw up due to the overwhelming sense of anxiety blooming in her chest. A much more significant threat had overshadowed her trivial worries from earlier about what clothes she was going to wear on her date with Wade: </span>
  <em>
    <span>she was going on a date with Wade</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Seriously, what had she done by asking him out? He was a mercenary, for crying out loud, and then there was the matter of his physical appearance. She hadn’t even seen his real face yet! One could tell a lot about a person from their face. What if he was ugly? She didn’t think that there was any way for him to be ugly under the suit, but how the hell would she know? She wasn’t petty enough that she would mind if he were ugly, but the only thing they really had going so far was their mutual - at least, it seemed mutual - attraction for one another. And if Wade was ugly, that might just kill the whole mood. And did she mention yet that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>kills people for a living</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cue Peter’s elevated stress levels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Peter knew what calmed her down in the worst of times. So, she swung to Central Park and tried to see if there were any animals stuck in trees somewhere. Luckily for her, there were not only one but two cats that needed rescuing, and a group of older women walking their dogs asked to take her picture to show their grandchildren, so Peter got to pet some cute dogs as well. Petting cute dogs always worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter can only patrol for a little while due to her upcoming date that she hoped wouldn’t end in a disaster, so after finishing her photoshoot with the kind, older women, she nabbed her things from underneath a dumpster in an alley before swinging back home. Looking around at the tiny amount of clean clothing hanging in her closet, Peter felt the urge to vomit return. 8:00 PM seemed so far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Were you expecting Peter to ask Wade on a date? Let me know down in the comments! I'm so excited to see what you guys thought of this chapter! I wanted it to be longer, and I actually wrote a little bit more than this, but it bled into the plot for the next chapter so I had to cut it. </p><p>Chapter Twelve though is Peter's freakout about her date and Wade's reaction to seeing Peter all dressed up for their date! I'm so excited for you to read it!</p><p>I hope you all have a lovely day, and I'll see you all later!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Absolutely Smitten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter spirals before her date with Wade, and Wade reacts to Peter all dolled up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I am back again with another chapter! Today I bring Chapter Twelve: Absolutely Smitten. This chapter title is inspired by the song Absolutely Smitten by Dodie. I love Dodie, and I adore this song so much. It's just very cute and corny, but it also describes Peter and Wade so much, so I am so excited to use it!</p><p>As always, you can find the playlist for this fic on Spotify <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=0wEouh8hQJSPqsQ3ELT1aw">here</a> and on YouTube <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p">here</a>. Spotify will not play in order unless you have Spotify Premium, but YouTube should. You don't have to listen to the playlist in order, but every chapter correlates to a different song, and there is a song for the fic as a whole. That song is She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer. </p><p>I had a blast writing this chapter, especially the ending. This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but there was not a lot to be done in this chapter. I also didn't want to combine it with the next one, because Peter and Wade's date is the next chapter, and I wanted it to have its own moment to shine. </p><p>Enjoy, and I will see you at the bottom!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Peter was close to having a nervous breakdown. Splayed out like a starfish on her bedroom floor, the anxiety bubbling beneath her skin made her want to scream. Scattered around her on the floor was almost every item of clothing she owned, dirty or clean. She had no idea which articles of clothing needed washing now, but her sensitive nose could probably find out rather quickly what was dirty if she needed to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been trying to figure out what to wear for the past fifteen minutes. She had taken a long shower, unsuccessfully trying to calm her nerves. When she got back to her bedroom, her previous panic from earlier about what to wear was reignited, hence her lying on the floor. It was already 7:00 PM, and she was supposed to meet Wade at eight. She didn’t have a lot of time to figure out what to wear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter couldn’t stop thinking that this date was going to go horribly wrong. What if Wade actually thought she was annoying and ended up hating her? He said earlier that he wasn’t good for her. What if he thought she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>good for him? What if this was all just a colossal mistake? Could she even go out on another date? She hadn’t been on a date with anyone since Gwen. Oh, Gwen. Could she do that to Gwen? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s freakout was interrupted by the shrill ringing of her regular cell-phone. She flopped her hand around on the floor until she found the phone. She didn’t look at the screen as she answered it; she knew where the accept button was by now. Peter brought the phone up to her ear and licked her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” she asked, her voice too loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter! How are you, Honey?” Aunt May’s voice was a soothing balm. Peter sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, May.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to hear from you, Sweetheart! Now, do you remember my friend Jamie?” Peter was too distracted to think about why May was suddenly diving into a different subject, so she just went along with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I remember, May.” Peter hoped her voice didn’t sound too weird. She didn’t want her aunt to worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, a few days ago, I was sitting at the front desk right…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aunt May managed to distract Peter for about ten minutes with talk of her hospital and Jamie. Apparently, the other nurse had asked out May, and they were going to get dinner next week. Peter didn’t know how she expected to feel after hearing the news. She didn’t have any ill feelings toward Jamie or toward Aunt May, for that matter; she was just happy for the two women. Aunt May deserved to find someone who loved her just as Uncle Ben did, and Peter was glad that May was finally moving forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toward the end of their call, Peter looked at the time and realized that she needed to start getting ready if she was going to meet Wade. She told May she needed to go, but she hesitated before speaking again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May?” Peter asked, running her hand through her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” May hummed, and Peter pictured them sitting together at the older woman’s kitchen table, something they had done hundreds of times over the years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hypothetically, if I was going out with someone tonight, what should I wear?” Peter’s voice was small as she finished her question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would say,” May began, sounding like she was trying to imagine all of the shirts in Peter’s closet. “You should wear one of your nicer tee-shirts with that floral button-up you have. Oh, and a pair of jeans.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, May,” Peter sighed in relief, a small smile on her face. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Honey. Be safe,” May slipped in, and Peter rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too. Bye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Peter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter put her phone back down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. She gave herself a few more minutes to think before she stood up and stretched, cracking her back. It didn’t take long to find the floral print shirt that May was talking about, and Peter quickly threw on a pair of jeans that she thought were clean. The tee-shirt she chose was 70’s inspired, with the words, “You axolotl questions,” printed on it along with a picture of an axolotl. It was one of Peter’s favorite shirts, even though it wasn’t exactly nerdy or Science-based in general. Peter turned to look in her small mirror as she buttoned her top half-way. Her button-up was a light-pink color with tiny blue and purple flowers, and the ruffled, short-sleeves complimented her arms quite nicely. She loved how her legs looked in her skinny-jeans, though she had to roll them up twice at the bottom. Finally, she slipped on her sneakers and pulled on her brown jacket, debating on whether or not to add her one beanie to her outfit. Instead of putting it on her head, Peter tucked it into her coat. She looked at herself one more time in the mirror before turning and leaving her apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter was thankful for the ride to Sister Margaret’s. She still wasn’t 100% calm, and skating in the cold October air gave her air to breathe. It also gave her time to look at all of the Halloween decorations in the windows of the shops she passed, and Peter reminded herself that she needed to buy candy the next day. Halloween was the day after tomorrow, and even though there were only a few kids in Peter’s apartment building, she still wanted to have candy for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter slowed as she approached Sister Margaret’s. Someone was leaning against the wall outside the bar, and Peter skidded to a stop. Peter grabbed her board and walked closer to the bar, watching as the person slowly pushed off the building. She was close enough now that she could make out black and red leather. It was Wade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby Girl!” he cried, waving both of his hands over his head. Peter sighed through a smile and pointedly waved one time. She had the urge to flash Wade peace signs or finger guns, but she resisted. Barely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Peter said lamely, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. She was standing directly in front of Wade now, and as she looked up at his face, she felt her cheeks warm from the direct attention he was giving her. She didn’t know if she was disappointed that he was in his regular Deadpool attire or if she was relieved that he wasn’t in something more serious. Maybe he was worried that she wouldn’t recognize him without his suit? Peter didn’t know, but there were bigger fish to fry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the look that was on Wade’s face. His mouth was open beneath his mask, and his eye lenses were the widest she’d ever seen them. He looked genuinely astounded as he continued to stare at her, and Peter started to worry that there was something wrong with her appearance. She hadn’t worn her suit beneath her clothes, right? No, her suit was at home in her backpack. Was there a bloodstain on her shirt? She didn’t think there was, but she looked down just to double-check. One could never be too sure when they were a crime-fighting vigilante. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Peter eventually snapped, mildly irritated with Wade’s staring. Wade immediately snapped out of his trance and shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look very nice, absolutely lovely, little Cottontail,” Wade finally spoke, and Peter furrowed her brow. He wasn’t trying to flirt with her or embarrass her. It was out-of-character based on the few interactions Peter had had with him previously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, thank you,” Peter muttered, nervously running her free hand through her hair. He thought she was pretty? “You look nice too….Wade.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, shucks, Bambi, don’t flatter me, it’ll just go to my head!” Wade giggled, and Peter relaxed. There he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, though. You’re stunning, Peter,” Wade murmured, stepping forward as Peter took one equal step back. They continued this dance until Peter’s back was flush with the concrete wall behind her. Well, fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Peter was breathless, her thoughts spinning around and around in her head as Deadpool crowded in on her. She couldn’t have tried to formulate a coherent sentence if she tried. Her legs began to buckle, and she was grateful for the wall behind her. Her limbs, her very insides, had turned to jelly by Wade’s mere presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Sweetheart.” Wade leaned one of his arms against the wall, pressing himself even closer to Peter. Though they were separated by mere inches, she could feel his body heat. He smelled like leather, gunpowder, and strangely enough, gingerbread. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was intoxicating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wade leaned in closer, his hand tipping Peter’s chin up until she was looking directly into the eye lenses of his mask. Peter’s face was on fire. She wanted to rip his mask off and peer into his soul. She wanted to see if he had freckles on his face, and if she did, she wanted to kiss every single one of them. She wanted to feel his body pressed against hers, feel the heat of his palms on her bare skin. Wade’s hand cradled her face, and Peter leaned into it. She tilted her chin even more and rose up on her tiptoes, trying to get closer. She wanted to kiss him - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get this show on the road, Shortstack! Time to get some Italian! Oh shit, I didn’t even ask if you liked Italian!” Suddenly, Wade was five feet apart from Peter and blubbering out some nonsense that Peter could barely keep up with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Peter asked, mind reeling from the abrupt change in atmosphere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like Italian food, Bambi? Please tell me you like Italian!” Wade pleaded, his hands raised in a praying gesture. Peter was getting whiplash. “Shit, I knew I should’ve gone with Mexican. Everyone likes Mexican!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I like Italian!” Peter huffed, grabbing onto one of Wade’s flailing arms. Wade squawked before relaxing. Peter peered up at him, raising an eyebrow at the weird look on Wade’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop looking at me like that! Let’s just go!” Peter demanded and made to take her hand off of Wade’s arm. As soon as Peter let go of him, Wade grabbed her hand in his own and laced their fingers. Peter looked down at their entwined hands before looking back up at Wade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This okay?” he asked quietly. Peter’s jaw went slack at the raw concern and anxiety present in Wade’s tone, and she nodded, unsure of what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Honey Bunches of Oats!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that ever again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, whatever you say, Honey Nut Cheerios.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, absolutely not!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t be such a Frosted Flake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WADE!” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed Chapter Twelve! If you did, leave a comment below telling me your favorite line or moment! Also, consider leaving a kudos or bookmarking this fic. I love seeing your interactions with this fic, it truly makes my day. I also reply to all comments, and I have a great time doing so! </p><p>My Tumblr is <a href="yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com">here</a> if you want to come scream at me over there. Also, I have a Ko-Fi for commissions, so if you would like one, head on over to ko-fi.com/mac0413 and leave me a coffee! I am very much like Peter in the way that I am a broke college student, and any and all Ko-Fi funds will be put towards my grad school, so every little bit helps!</p><p>Thanks so much, and I will see you guys next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Accidentally in Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter and Wade's date ends in a surprise visit to a skatepark, and Peter makes a startling revelation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, you beautiful people! I hope you are all having a fantastic day!</p><p>Today I bring you Chapter Thirteen: Accidentally in Love! This has been my favorite chapter to write by far, and it is extra long! It's the longest one to date for this story. This chapter is where the story starts to earn its explicit rating (I think it's explicit, but it might be mature). Anyway, this chapter has NSFW content toward the bottom, so there's that! Have at the smut, you hungry bastards. </p><p>Also, Chapter Thirteen means we are officially halfway through this story! There will be twenty-five normal chapters with the addition of an epilogue/twenty-sixth chapter at the end of this story. I feel like this story only just began, and we're already halfway through, it's crazy!</p><p>As always, there is a playlist for this story, and you can find it on YouTube <a href="https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgxreAPbt0J7mdhmg0TcCT8Y6Jenh7G5p">here</a> and on Spotify <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wylWMsWAkIAE6PRuIxZ4O?si=dgEPQzpHQ5qLbCaeXvmxnQ">here</a>. Spotify will not play in order unless you have Spotify Premium, but YouTube should play in order. Of course, you don't have to listen to the playlist in order, but it's recommended as each chapter corresponds to a certain song, as does the entire story. The song for this fic is She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds of Summer. </p><p>I'll see you guys at the end! Happy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Right this way, Bambi. Best seats in the house,” Wade proclaimed with a sweep of his arm, indicating that Peter should climb into the booth. They were at a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant; Peter wasn’t sure how far away they were from Sister Margaret’s because she had been distracted during their walk by the chatter coming out of Wade’s mouth, but it couldn’t have been that far from the bar. There were two tiny windows on either side of the restaurant’s door, but they were blacked out, creating a suspicious-looking building, at least from the outside. Until the moment they had walked in the door, Peter was worried that Wade had taken them to the wrong place. But, no, they were in the smallest restaurant that Peter had ever been in, and it was very warm and smelled like garlic and parmesan cheese. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter climbed into the booth and put her coat down beside her. Compared to the frigid temperatures outside, the restaurant was a tropical paradise. Wade showed no sign of discomfort from the heat, however, as he sat down opposite her on the other side of the table. Peter noted that not only had he chosen the only table in a corner, but he had also sat on the side of the table that would grant him the view of the entire restaurant. She wondered if that was leftover ingrained training from his time in the Special Forces, or maybe it was a part of his mercenary training instead? Knowing the layout of a room seemed like an essential skill for someone with Wade’s job. Bad Peter, focus on Wade, not his job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And like that, she was zeroing in on Wade, who was squirming around in his seat while looking at a handwritten menu made out of cardstock. Peter picked hers up, and after realizing that she couldn’t read any of it but the names of a few types of noodles since it was written in Italian, she quickly set it back down. Wade perked his head up, and his mask raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need some help there, Bambi?” Peter shook her head and played with one of the napkins that were on the table. Her cheeks still had yet to recover from their almost kiss back at Sister Margaret’s, and the heat in the restaurant was doing nothing to calm the redness in her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Order anything you want, Baby Girl. Tonight’s on me,” Wade cheerfully announced, setting his menu down too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have money, Wade. I can pay for me if not both of us,” Peter argued, frowning at him. Irritatingly, Wade just laughed in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No can do, Baby Girl. If I let you pay, you’d be bankrupt into next year. You don’t know how much pasta I can put away yet, but you will pretty soon,” Wade chuckled, mimicking wiping a tear away from his eye lenses. Peter scowled; it seemed that Wade didn’t know exactly how much pasta </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>could put away either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, I just got paid. I’m good!” Peter promised, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Wade stopped laughing and tilted his head. Not for the first time, Peter wondered what he was thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Honey, or offend you,” Wade said softly, one hand coming up and across the table to cup Peter’s cheek. She desperately wanted to lean into it, to feel his fingers tangle in her hair, but she also wanted to stand her ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve just got a lot of money laying around that I never spend, and I’d rather you spend your paycheck on things you actually need like groceries or something. And I eat a lot, Sweetheart, I’m afraid I’d put you out on the street,” Wade continued, his thumb running back and forth over Peter’s cheek. It was so close to her bottom lip, she could almost taste the leather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you make a lot of money, it’s just, I can take care of myself too,” Peter muttered, wholly distracted by Wade’s hand. He pulled it away, setting it down on the table between them, and Peter had to restrain herself from letting loose the most desperate whimper known to man. However, she must have done a horrible job at disguising her desires because Wade barked out a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, you brat, here, take it back,” Wade conceded quietly, settling his hand back on Peter’s cheek. Peter allowed herself one sigh, and she held onto Wade’s hand for a few seconds with her own before she put both of them down on the table. Sheepishly, she looked back up at Wade. The smile stretching his mask was blinding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not denying you can take care of yourself, Peter,” Wade finally said, rapping the knuckles of his free hand on the table. “But I did pick the restaurant after all, and I’d just like to spoil you a little. Let me? Next time, you can pay, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’not sure that’s how that goes,” Peter shook her head with a small smile before straightening as she realized what Wade had said. “Next time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if tonight goes well, which so far, it is,” Wade smirks with a pointed look at their clasped hands. Peter’s blush burned brighter. “I’d like there to be a ‘next time,’ Bambi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Peter confessed, her voice barely audible. Their quiet moment was interrupted by a waitress coming up to their table. They had been talking while they waited for at least half an hour, but the restaurant was completely full. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Cosa vorrebbe ordinare?” she asked, leaning her hip against the table. Peter, now feeling self-conscious, hastily tried to let go of Wade’s hand, but his grip was steel tight, and he refused to let her go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Una grande ciotola di spaghetti per favore,” Wade said confidently, and Peter was pretty sure he butchered every word of that sentence. It sounded like Wade had just spoken directly from Google Translate. Like she agreed with Peter’s thoughts, the waitress rolled her eyes and turned to Peter, raising an eyebrow as she waited for him to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grande lasagna,” Peter said with a straight face, knowing good, damn, and well that she sounded like an American tourist. It looked like the waitress was fighting a grin, but she just nodded with another roll of her eyes and left. She came back almost immediately with two cups of water and plopped those on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you learn Italian?” Peter asked Wade as she drained half of her glass, suddenly nervous that she was left alone with him again. What the fuck was wrong with her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Google Translate,” Wade deadpanned, and Peter nearly choked on her drink. She coughed a few times and took one more sip before putting her cup down. </span>
</p><p><span>“No wonder it sounded so bad,” Peter snarked. </span><span><br/></span> <span>“I never said Italian was my specialty, you brat,” Wade squawked, “I took Spanish in high school, if you must know.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so what can you say in Spanish?” Peter played along, eyebrows raised in questioning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“¿Donde esta la biblioteca?” Deadpool asked with a shit-eating grin on his mask. Peter burst into laughter, snatching her hand back so she could clutch at her stomach with both hands. Her face hurt from the smile stretched across her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, Petey-Pie, keep on smiling. Baby Girl, it’s gotta be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Wade marveled, his own smile gentle and warm. Peter continued to giggle softly until her amusement was gone, leaving her with a pleasant and tender feeling in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please teach me your ways, Professor Wilson,” Peter teased, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. Even though she wasn’t looking at Wade, Peter could feel that the air between them was stretched thin with tension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Baby Girl,” Wade growled, and Peter immediately felt her insides twist together in a knot. “There are so many things I’ll teach you, just you wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter swallowed, and against her wishes, the smallest of whines left her throat. Wade closed his eyes in what looked like restraint and groaned quietly, shifting in his seat. Before either one of them could say another word, their waitress was back, sliding large pasta bowls in front of each of them. The smell of fresh tomato sauce and mozzarella broke through the fog covering Peter’s brain, and her stomach gurgled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grazie!” Wade chirped, tucking a napkin into the neck of his suit. The waitress rolled her eyes with a laugh and a smile in Peter’s direction before walking off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter grabbed her fork and dug into her plate. She moaned at the first bite; it was the first proper meal that she’d had in weeks. Her paychecks had been small the last few months; Triple J hadn’t been giving her nearly as many assignments as usual, and that meant ramen noodles for every meal except breakfast. Breakfast was always one cup of - usually, instant - scalding hot coffee with entirely too much sugar. God, she hadn’t even had Starbucks since that first week after she met Wade. What she wouldn’t give for another cappuccino. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter looked up, trying to distance herself from her longing thoughts of Starbucks, and noticed that Wade hadn’t started eating yet. His mask still covered his entire face, and he appeared to be making no effort to remove it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wade? Aren’t you hungry?” Peter asked, wiping away the sauce that was probably all over her mouth. She tilted her head to the side as the expression on Wade’s mask remained the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you go ahead, Baby Girl, I’m fine,” Wade said, his voice almost sounding authentic, but Peter knew better. She could hear the false notes in his tone, and his posture was too stiff to be relaxed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, if it’s the mask, it’s no big deal, it’s fine, really!” Peter promised, her hands gripping onto the edge of the table. Wade shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Honey, honest, just go ahead and eat-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I’ll put on my beanie.” Peter stuck her hand in her coat pocket, grateful that she had brought her hat after all. “And I’ll just keep my eyes down, and you can just eat like normal, it’ll be fine!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I do not deserve any of this, don’t deserve you,” Wade whispered, and if Peter hadn’t had gotten enhanced hearing from the Spider Bite™, she never would have heard it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep your hat off, Sweetheart. You shouldn’t have to cover up your lovely face just so my ugly mug can eat. Just don’t want you to lose your appetite is all,” Wade insisted, putting a hand over Peter’s. She cautiously dropped it onto the table with a raised eyebrow and looked down at her food anyway when Wade started to roll up his mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can look. Just make sure you lean over when you blow chunks,” Wade muttered, and he picked up his fork and started to poke around at his spaghetti. Peter looked up in a cursory glance, and her next bite of lasagna never made it into her mouth. Instead, her hand stopped dead in its tracks and just kind of dangled there in front of her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wade had only rolled his mask up to the bridge of his nose, but Peter could still tell that he was gorgeous. His jawline was sharper than it looked through his mask, and Peter wanted to cut herself on it and watch the blood drip down his neck. Wade’s skin was pale pink and covered and crisscrossed with scars that were just slightly darker in color, and each of them appeared to be different. There wasn’t any pattern or rhythm in them that Peter could make out. Wade’s nose was slim, and Peter’s eyes were finally drawn to his lips. They were full and flesh-colored, covered in the same scars that made up the rest of Wade’s skin, but Peter didn’t care. Peter’s mind went blank with </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the urge to kiss Wade so strong and present, and she had to restrain herself from crawling across the table and plopping herself down in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you don’t look like you’re going to projective vomit everywhere,” Wade commented, shoving another bite of spaghetti in his mouth. He was eating at a pace that rivaled Peter’s, and the only thing that made Peter even slightly squeamish was the fact that he had talked with his mouth full. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Peter asked, still looking at Wade’s lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earth to Petey-Pie, I”m up here,” Wade said, chuckling a little at the end. He waved his hand a few times in front of Peter’s face, and she shook her head as she broke herself from her trance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’sorry, didn’t mean to stare,” Peter muttered as she picked up her fork again. When had she dropped it? She managed to eat two more bites before the thoughts floating around in her head left her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just really pretty,” Peter whispered, cheeks burning hot. “Your lips are like wow, and your jaw is like woah, and your chin is really pretty and your dimples, s’nice.” God, she wished she could stop talking. Why couldn’t she stop talking? She used to do this shit with Gwen too, and she would just laugh and kiss Peter to shut her up. Would Wade do that? She wanted him to do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are just a dream come true, Baby Girl. Never gonna let you go,” Wade murmured, a soft look coming over his face. His face was so much more expressive - how was that even possible? - without his mask, and Peter nearly swooned. She bit back her response, hiding it under her tongue. Even though his comment had been a little extreme, especially for a first date, Peter had a feeling that “Yes, please,” wasn’t the right response. At least, not yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made idle chit-chat through the rest of their meal, and Peter was extremely pleased that Wade didn’t roll his mask back down when they finished. While getting ready to leave, Wade asked what was wrong, and Peter was forced to own up to the grumpy expression on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna go home yet,” Peter confessed, tugging on the ends of her coat. A big smile coated with mischief crossed Wade’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know just the place, Sweetheart,” he said, scooping up her skateboard from the floor. He offered it to her, and she carried it out of the restaurant in her freehand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Full and content, Peter left the restaurant, happy to let Wade guide them to wherever he had decided they needed to go. They walked for about fifteen minutes, going up one street, across another, and then making a left onto one final street. Their destination appeared to be a skatepark, and at almost 11 PM at the end of October, it was entirely empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figured you could skate off dinner if you wanted,” Wade said with a shrug, nodding his head to Peter’s board. “Y’know, ‘he was a skater boy, she said see you later boy,’ and all that shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, that’s cool with me. You want me to show you a few tricks?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want,” Wade agreed, leading them into the abandoned skatepark. Once inside, he fell back, so Peter took the reigns to guide them further into the park. She’d been here once or twice before, so she took him over to one of the half-pipes and gestured that he should sit. Peter shrugged out of her coat, much to Wade’s protests, and she threw it at him with a grin over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep it warm for me!” She shouted as she took off down the half-pipe. The coat was too thick to skate with comfortably, and she’d get too hot too quickly to have any kind of fun. When she looked back at Wade, he was snuggled up beneath the fabric, and she laughed. It looked like doll clothes spread out over his lap like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, keep laughing, Short-Stuff! I’ve got the best view in the house right here lookin’ at you, Honey-Buns!” She was wondering when Wade was going to make his first ass comment of the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter spent a few moments getting her momentum, just going up and down on the half-pipe. She hadn’t been to a skatepark in a while, and she was a little rusty as far as tricks went. She did a few basic ones for Wade, pausing between each one to smile at his clapping and cheering before moving on to some of the more complicated ones. She skated around the park a few times before making her way back to Wade. She set her board down gently in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d I do?” she asked, shaking her fringe out of her face. Wade stood up with a leer, and Peter gulped. Wade moved toward her, and she backed up, matching him step for step. He moved gracefully, like a predator, and Peter’s blood started to race as she realized that this was the first time since she became Spider-Woman that she was the hunted instead of the hunter. She liked it, liked feeling like </span>
  <em>
    <span>prey </span>
  </em>
  <span>when it was Wade who was the predator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a 10 from me, Sweetheart,” Wade crooned, stepping even closer. Peter looked from side to side, trying to figure out if there was somewhere for her to go. She took a few steps to the right, and Wade matched her pace, pushing himself even closer. She had a thought of making a break for it, Wade chasing after her, his hot breath panting down her neck. That made her insides warm even further. She’d save that for another day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you like performing for me, Bambi?” Wade asked, pressing himself flush against Peter. Her back was pushed up against the chain-link fence, and Peter tangled her fingers in the links on either side of her, trying to resist from reaching out and touching Wade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Asked you a question,” he reminded, gently, his voice firm but still warm. Peter opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. She just nodded, her body on fire from Wade’s touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saw you looking to the side, looking around like you were gonna run, Petey-Pie,” Wade continued, running his nose down the side of Peter’s face. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed at the feeling of his skin just barely brushing against hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna run, Baby? Want me to chase after you?” Wade’s lips were at Peter’s ear, and she shivered, the metal from the fence digging into her fingers. One of Wade’s hands reached out and gently grasped onto her hands one at a time, freeing them from the cold fence. He gathered them both in his hand and held them against his chest, letting go when Peter tangled her fingers in the straps of his suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d like it, running around with nowhere to go,” Wade whispered, licking a wet, hot stripe up Peter’s neck. It contrasted with the biting cold of the wind, and the whimper that left Peter’s throat was strangled and torn apart. She couldn’t remember ever making a noise that sounded like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be fast, Bunny, but I’m faster,” Wade suddenly growled, biting down at the junction between Peter’s neck and shoulder. She cried out, head falling back against the fence. It bent beneath her weight, but she didn’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Wade, please, please,” she begged, but she didn’t know what she was begging for. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to bite him, she wanted to touch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’here, Sweetheart, I have you,” Wade assured her, his lips caressing her jaw. She whined. His mouth was so close and yet so far from where she wanted it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, please? Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Peter gasped when Wade’s kisses turned sharp and biting on her neck, sucking so hard it was bound to bruise. Good, she wanted the marks, wanted the reminder when she looked in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotcha, Honey, I gotcha, don’t worry,” Wade murmured, bringing his lips up to Peter’s. Much to her displeasure, he didn’t immediately kiss her. Peter whined as he brushed their lips together. He was tall, Wade was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>tall, so when Peter tried to rise up on her toes to chase after him, he easily broke apart from her. He waited until she settled back against the fence, and then he was on her again, body pressed against hers as close as possible. Peter arched her back and whimpered, trying to press closer, trying to get his mouth back on hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spoiled, spoiled, little Petey-Pie,” Wade chuckled, taking his lips away again. Peter growled in irritation; he was just being mean now, and he knew exactly what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being mean!” she snarled, pulling down on the straps of his suit so that he was leaning over her again. Wade smirked and held himself just a few inches out of reach, and Peter stretched up on the balls of her feet while simultaneously pulling Wade toward her. Finally, he was within reach, and she bit down on the free, beautiful skin of his neck. It wasn’t gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! That hurt, you brat!” Wade growled playfully, caging Peter in against the fence. She bared her teeth at him right back, and even though she couldn’t see something in his eyes, she swore she could see something change in them. Before she could try to think about what that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>could be, Wade finally kissed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter had only kissed approximately three people in her entire life: Mary Jane, Harry Osbon, and Gwen. She and Mary Jane had ended long ago, as had her and Harry, so her last experiences with anyone had been with Gwen. Gwen had been sweet and gentle, and the furthest they had gone was the furthest Peter had ever gone with anyone: exploring each other’s tonsils and playing footsie under the table. Gwen was sweet and warm and gentle, and Peter would never, ever forget her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this, Wade, was hot and harsh and unyielding. It was everything that Peter had ever wanted but had never been able to have. Wade’s mouth was rough, skin uneven from the scars that she had longed to taste, but he tasted of marinara sauce and home. He tasted like hope and electricity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter didn’t have a good track record with relationships, with keeping people, but her heart whispered Wade’s name over and over again as they kissed, and she thought maybe this time, maybe she could keep this one, this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter wrenched her head back with a gasp, unhappy to part from Wade but needing to breathe. He seemed inclined to agree as his mouth just moved to her jaw, sucking what she was sure was going to be another bruise in a few hours. Peter fell into a fit of soft whimpers, trying to get him to suck, bite, harder. Any marks that Wade made would just disappear before tomorrow, and she wanted them to remain as long as possible, so she could remind herself tomorrow that this was real, that Wade was real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever done this kind of thing before, Baby Girl?” Wade murmured against her skin, lips moving back up to her own. She caught his hand before it could tangle in her hair, and she tapped on his glove in a questioning manner, hoping he would get the memo and take them off. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin, needed the relief that skin-to-skin contact would bring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-not really, no,” Peter whispered, surging upwards to kiss Wade again. “Want this, want you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure, Sweetheart? You tell me to stop, we stop. Push me away now, tell me red, tell me anything but yes, and I’ll stop right now. We can just go home, and it’ll be fine,” Wade said firmly, lips gently resting against hers. Peter nodded and whined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I want you, Wade. Yes, please, yes-” Peter’s cries were cut off as Wade took her lips in another kiss. She didn’t think she was a very good kisser, and she didn’t really know what she was doing, but she mostly just tried to copy what Wade was doing. Tentatively, she slid her tongue along his, darting back into the safety of her own mouth when he chased after her. Peter whimpered at the taste of Wade, sharp, salty, almost metallic, and Wade growled in response, pressing her back against the fence. It bent further, but neither of them seemed to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna take care of you, Sweetheart, don’t you worry,” Wade promised, sliding one hand up her stomach and under her shirt toward her breasts. Peter groaned as he reached her bra, hand slipping underneath to stroke and gently pinch her nipples. Her body was on fire, and she was on edge, suddenly rocking forward against Wade’s thigh. He moaned, his voice muffled from where his head was pressed against her shoulder, and shoved his thick leg between hers, tensing as she squeezed her thighs on either side of his leg. Wade was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span>, shoulders so wide and muscles so big, that Peter felt dainty and small in his arms even though she knew that they probably weighed around the same amount. Her legs would dwarf a normal person’s, but Wade’s, full of thick, corded muscle, gave her a run for her money. She arched her back again and ground against Wade’s thigh, letting him know just how much she appreciated his size. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So big,” Peter gasped out, head falling back as Wade continued to toy with her nipples. It was like he knew exactly where to touch her, exactly where to pull and push. He pinched one of nipples and flicked the other one, earning himself a high-pitched whine of his name. His other hand tangled in Peter’s hair, pulling her toward him, and Peter bit his lip when he kissed her again. That earned </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>a growl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’good, fuck, right there, Wade! So right, want you, more, please?” Peter begged. Wade obliged her, and Peter lost all of the air in her lungs when his hand slipped in her pants. Peter cried out as Wade’s fingers swiped against her, warm, thick fingers moving quickly over her underwear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, you’re fucking soaking wet, Baby Girl,” Wade groaned, nosing at her temple. Peter cried out as his fingers moved faster, circling her clit. “This all for me, Honey?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just you, Wade.” Peter could barely breathe. “More, more, please, fuck, right there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mouth on you, little Bunny,” Wade growled, his voice sounding more animalistic than before. His body was tense and firm against hers, and Peter couldn’t help humping against his leg and fingers. It felt good, too good, she never wanted this to stop, oh why hadn’t they done this sooner, it was so good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there, Petey-Pie? Gonna be a good girl and come for me, hmm?” Wade’s voice was feral, and Peter could feel his interest, hot and hard against her hip. He ground his hips against her, moving his fingers across her clit and nipples in a rhythm that Peter couldn’t follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, please, can I, Wade, more, please,” Peter begged, catching Wade’s lips. “Please, let me, c’mon, wanna come, wanna come on your fingers, please, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be good and come for me, Sweetheart, c’mon, c’mon, Baby Girl. Come for me,” Wade urged, fingers moving at the same pace, and Peter had no choice but to obey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter’s body shivered and locked up as she fell over the edge. As she came and collapsed against Wade’s chest, she felt like she was laying outside on the grass on a summer day. She could feel the warm, comforting rays of the sun on her skin, and her whole body tingled from the pleasure coursing through her veins. She vaguely realized that Wade’s fingers hadn’t stopped moving on her body, and she shivered as the direct stimulation on her clit became too much. Usually, when she used either her hands or the toys in her bedside drawer, she stopped touching herself almost immediately after her orgasm. She was almost always too sensitive for another orgasm immediately, and her hands would fly away from herself as she fell over the peak. Wade, however, continued to touch her until she squirmed and whined and begged him not to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too much, too much, Wade,” Peter panted, even as she continued to rock her hips against him. Wade, she realized, was panting too, and he slowly stopped moving his hands over her body, slipping them from beneath her clothes. Peter tried to straighten up, but her knees were weak, so she continued to slump against Wade as she righted her clothing. Wade chuckled and kissed her, lips moving almost lazily against hers now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So good, Baby Girl, so sweet, absolutely perfect,” Wade said, his voice almost a purr from how low it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it good for you? It was, oh my god, it was absolutely perfect for me, but, you, was it good for you?” she asked, suddenly worried because she hadn’t touched him at all. God, she still wanted to touch him. “Did you, ya know.” God, the gesture she was making toward his dick was so stupid. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, did I,” Wade laughed, pulling Peter against him with a soft groan. “I came when you did, Sweetheart. That look on your face when you came will haunt all of my wet dreams for eternity. It’s enough spank bank material to last me until I’m old and gray.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wade!” Peter laughed, hitting his chest playfully. Wade joined in her laughter, and they rested against each other and the fence, a soft smile on Peter’s lips as she waited for her heart rate to calm back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And right there in a vacant skatepark, just a few minutes past midnight, Peter realized she was in love. Oh, fuck. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed Chapter Thirteen! Please let me know in the comments what you thought; I truly love reading what you have to say, and I reply back to everyone! Thank you to everyone who has engaged with this story; it truly means a tremendous deal to me, and it makes my day to see everything going on over here with my little story. </p><p>If you guys want to find me on Tumblr, you can do that <a href="yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com">here</a>. You can also read this story on Tumblr, and the masterlist for that is <a href="https://yomama-umbridge.tumblr.com/post/633550790766821376/all-i-really-want-is-you-spideypool-masterlist">here</a>. Also, my commissions are open, and if you would like to commission something, you should head over to my Ko-Fi, which is ko-fi.com/mac0413. You can buy me a coffee, and leave a message for your commission, and I'll get started on it right away. You can also leave me a message here or on Tumblr, and we can figure something else out about your commission! </p><p>Alright, guys, that's all from me for now! I'll see you guys next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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